Through the Looking Glass
by Tez
Summary: The seaQuest has disappeared. What happens to Lucas after he loses everything he ever cared about? AU, Lucas-centric, post-Splashdown.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Seaquest doesn't belong to me, more's the pity.

A/N: These stories are being written (very, very slowly) for the 50 Passages challenge on LJ. The seaQuest disappeared at the end of the second season. However, Lucas wasn't onboard. Katie Hitchcock and Ben Krieg were. Kristin Westphalen was left behind, as per series canon.

* * *

You can just see a little _peep_ of the passage in Looking Glass House, if you leave the door of our drawing-room wide open...it's very like our passage as far as you can see, only you know it may be quite different on beyond.

* * *

He watched the cityscape pass outside his window, the tall buildings a blur of motion as the taxi sped through New Cape Quest. He'd spent the last three months on assignment; three more months of mind-numbing, exhausting work, shoring up remote UEO security systems. Several of the other officers on the base had complained, saying that the tour of duty was unnecessary, that the rumors of rising hostility in Macronesia were just that and nothing more.

He knew better. He'd heard the same whispers his comrades had, but, unable to either accept or dismiss them on face value alone, he'd looked deeper. He'd hacked his way into secure Macronesian databases, and after what he'd found there, he'd hacked into his own government's databases. The UEO intelligence files confirmed the information in the Macronesian ones: the Macronesians were quietly amassing a navy to rival the UEO's. They were also funneling money into dummy companies that were fronts for weapons research projects, and they'd started purchasing high-tech equipment that would give even the systems at HQ a run for their money. There would be trouble – big trouble, and soon – and the UEO's computer network needed all the security reinforcement they could give it.

"Hey, Buddy," the cabbie said, interrupting his musings. "We're here."

Lucas handed the man a credit chit, shouldering his seabag as he stepped out of the cab. The cabbie paused, recognizing the UEO symbol on the bag.

"You a Navy man?"

Lucas gave him a curt nod, and the cabbie grinned.

"I was a Navy man myself. Petty Officer Third Class, retired." He handed the chit back to Lucas, giving him a jaunty salute. "No charge, brother. _Non sibi_."

"_Sed patriae_," Lucas replied, the response automatic. With one last wave, the cabbie drove away, leaving Lucas standing on the curb. He sighed, looking up at the weathered brick building, and began the long climb up the stairs to his apartment. He could've lived in base housing, but he disliked the easy familiarity shared by the officers in the bachelor quarters. He'd lost enough friends over the years. He didn't have any desire to make more.

His key stuck in the lock, as usual, and he gave it a sharp tug to free it. He stepped inside and found that the foyer was as dark and uninviting as it had been when he'd left, filled with shadows and silence. He drew a deep breath. "Well, I'm back", he said, and did his best to ignore the way the words echoed in the empty room.

* * *

(_Non sibi sed patriae_ – Not self but country; unofficial USN motto. In my universe, it's the official UEO Navy motto.)


	2. Chapter 2

"You did _what_?"

"I joined the Navy."

"I heard you the first time! I just didn't _believe_ you!"

Lucas took a swallow from his water glass, leaning back in his chair as he contemplated how wise of him it had been to insist that they order their meals before he told Kristin his news. She was probably going to continue in this vein for some time, and he hated to listen to her lectures on an empty stomach.

"– ran off and joined the military," she was ranting, her fingers busily ripping a dinner roll into miniscule pieces. "Lucas Wolenczak, I do not know what put it into your head, or your heart, to do that, but tomorrow morning you can just march right back to that recruiting office and –"

"I didn't sign up at a recruiting office, Doc," he told her, wondering absently whether she'd been born with the ability to go off on her passionate tirades or if she'd taken a special class. She probably wouldn't appreciate his asking. "I talked to Noyce. He agreed to let me take an accelerated Officer Candidate Academy class. Two months of training and I'll be commissioned."

"Doing what? Playing soldier? Lucas, you have a gift! You are a brilliant young man, and you should be using that brilliance to improve the world, not throwing it away to become a – a commando!"

"Captain Bridger –"

"Captain Bridger isn't here, is he? Your precious UEO navy got him killed, along with everyone else on that damned boat! And for what? So that they could play their idiotic war games? Good people have died, Lucas, and you'll be next! The only reason you survived was that the UEO hasn't yet sunk to the level of depravity that would allow them to jeopardize civilian lives, but once you put on that uniform, they will own you. They'll sacrifice you just like they sacrificed Nathan and the others!"

"So I'm supposed to just forget about them?" he demanded, struggling to contain his anger. The only way he'd been able to survive the past few months was by keeping his emotions locked tightly inside himself, hiding his inner turmoil beneath an icy façade. "You're right; good people are dead. Captain Bridger and Commander Ford, Katie and Ben, Miguel and Tim. They died for what they believed in. Somebody has to pick up where they left off, and I'm the only one who can."

"This is not what they would want for you." Kristin reached across the table, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. "This is not what _I_ want for you, my boy. Please, don't do this. For me. I can't lose you, too."

Slowly, he pulled his hand from her grasp, shoving his sorrow and regret down into the farthest recesses of his mind. If he was going to do this, he couldn't afford either one.

"I'm sorry, Kristin," he told her, rising numbly to his feet. Numb was good. Numb would keep him functional long enough for him to find some way to atone for the fact that all of his comrades were dead but he was still alive.

"Lucas, don't you walk away from me, young man! We aren't finished!"

"Yes, we are," he said, and as hard as he tried to hide it, there was a hint of regret in his voice. "I'm sorry, Kristin. I have to do this."

"I cannot countenance this, Lucas. I won't."

"I never asked for your blessing," he reminded her. "I would have liked to have your support, but I guess that's not going to happen, either."

"Absolutely not."

"Then we're done here."

"Lucas, please, think about this," she implored. He shook his head, and she watched in shock as he headed for the door. "Lucas Wolenczak, don't you dare walk away from me –"

The door to the restaurant swung shut behind him. Kristin slammed a furious hand down on the table, ignoring the stares of the other patrons.

"Damn you, Nathan Bridger," she swore, irrationally furious with the deceased captain. Whatever Lucas might say, she knew that if it weren't for Nathan's death, the boy wouldn't even have considered joining the military. "Look what you've done. How am I supposed to fix this?"

The only response was silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: I've learned something about myself while writing these stories: I blame Nathan Bridger for just about everything. Also, I apparently love to end my stories with people talking to themselves.

* * *

"Ensign Wolenczak?"

Lucas held up a hand to stall whoever was calling his name, hurriedly punching in the last line of code for the defense program he'd been working on since his return to HQ at the beginning of the week.

"All right," he said finally, hitting enter with a flourish and turning to face the newcomer. "What can I…Admiral."

"Ensign," Admiral Noyce repeated, his voice and expression unreadable. "Come with me, please."

* * *

They sat in Noyce's office, staring across the desk at one another. Noyce was the first to break the silence.

"I've received a report from one of our intelligence agencies," Noyce began, his heart heavy. "Last week, someone hacked into several sensitive intelligence databases. The hacker was traced back to your last posting on Irving Base. To your workstation."

Lucas was silent, neither confirming or denying the accusation. Noyce sighed.

"This is serious business, Ensign. This sort of thing might have been permitted while you were a civilian working for Nathan, but you can't get away with it here."

Lucas stiffened at the mention of Bridger's name, but still said nothing.

"I need you to help me here, Lucas," Noyce told him, a little of the inner turmoil he was feeling seeping into his voice. "If you can honestly tell me that you didn't do this -"

"I did it."

The response, delivered in a flat, emotionless voice, destroyed any hope Noyce might have had of salvaging the situation. He leaned back in his chair, suddenly weary.

"I suppose you are aware that the punishment for any UEO officer who illegally accesses classified databases is a minimum sentence of ten years' imprisonment in a Navy facility."

Lucas remained silent, but jerked his head in a quick nod. He'd known the possible consequences when he'd taken the risk. However, he honestly hadn't believed that he might actually get caught.

"Unfortunately, Ensign, I am not the master of the law, and cannot set it aside." Noyce leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "However, I've done a little asking around. The UEO division that discovered your…activities…is interested in taking you into their department. So you now have two options. You can be court-martialed for sedition and treason, or you can be transferred."

"Transferred," Lucas repeated slowly, trying to work out where Noyce was headed with this. "Transferred to where? Section Seven? "

Noyce shook his head. "Section Seven is the UEO's most visible 'covert' agency, but no. You would be joining the Intelligence Security Division."

"Never heard of it."

"That's the point," Noyce agreed. "ISD works much more quietly than Section Seven. The vast majority of our people have no idea how much of our intelligence actually comes from them."

"What would I be doing?"

"Gathering information. Hacking into Macronesian databases and protecting ours from their hackers. And anything else they order you to do to protect the security of the UEO. If you decide to join them, you'll answer to ISD until they decide they're finished with you or until you're dead. They don't accept resignations." Noyce paused at the inscrutable look on the young man's face. He'd expected some sort of reaction: shock, dismay, something. Life as Lucas knew it was over, and he looked as politely disinterested as he might have if Noyce had been reading to him from a phone book.

"I know this is difficult," Noyce added, wondering at the ensign's calm demeanor. "Unfortunately, there are no other options. If you'd like some time to consider -"

"I'll take the transfer, sir."

Noyce hesitated, hating himself for putting Nathan's de facto son in this position, but he really hadn't had any choice. ISD didn't take kindly to people interfering in their work, and Lucas had hacked his way into the middle of a very sensitive intelligence-gathering operation. It had taken all of his considerable influence to convince them that the ensign would be much more valuable to them alive than dead.

"All right. You'll be transferred to ISD starting tomorrow morning. As of right now, you're relieved of your duties here." He looked at the young man once more and then turned away, pained by all of the untapped potential in the bright young officer that would surely be wasted. ISD would use him up and throw him away, would get him killed on some obscure intelligence-gathering mission or drown him in political waters too deep for him to possibly navigate and then reward him with a laser pulse to the back of the head when they were finished with him. If there were any other way…

He watched as the young ensign rose stiffly to his feet, gave him a textbook salute, and marched smartly out the door. It was, he was fairly certain, the last time he'd ever see the boy who was all he had left of his oldest friend.

"Damn the law," Noyce breathed, truly angry for the first time in his career that the Navy's rules were so cursed inflexible. "How can I be expected to do this? How can I do this to him?"

But he did not rise to his feet to call the ensign back, to tell him he'd changed his mind, that he'd decided that the Navy must be shown the error in what it was doing to him. Instead, he looked down at his Academy ring, the glittering blue stone and thick gold band an impossible weight on his right hand. Slowly he pulled it off, holding it up to the lamp on his desk. The inscription on the inside of the band glittered under the light:

_Non sibi sed patriae_


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The seaQuest universe doesn't belong to me, but ISD and the LG universe do, and I intend to toy with them with impunity!

Prompt #26: I will tell you what I know, and leave the reward to you. You may be glad to grant it, when you have heard me.

* * *

"You see the new guy yet? I've got the inside story on him."

Sophie continued to scroll through the plans for her next mission, pointedly ignoring him.

"Oh, c'mon, Sutton. The opposition barely even dented your mission leader. He's been out of the infirmary for hours. You can't still be mad."

"You may have noticed I'm not talking to you," she pointed out, and he grinned.

"You just did." Pearson considered her for a moment and then leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Look, Sutton. I'll tell you what I know, and leave the reward to you."

Sophie made a noise that in someone less delicate would have been a snort, and his grin widened.

"Ah, ah," he scolded her, wagging a finger at her. "You may be glad to grant it, when you have heard me."

"All right," Sophie acquiesced, closing her mission profile and turning to Pearson. "You've piqued my interest."

"Noyce signed him over to us. Apparently, he hacked into the SECMO database."

"Which part?"

"The whole thing. He accessed every last file. Operations, missions, Mac intelligence and counterintelligence - everything. Noyce told him to pick between prison and us, and he picked us."

Sophie raised her eyebrows, disbelieving.

"He hacked SECMO? Why?"

"Who knows?" Pearson shrugged. "Here's the kicker, though. Before he hacked SECMO, he hacked MIN."

As if of its own accord, Sophie's hand slid up to her vidcomset, pushing the ear and eye interfaces out of alignment and pulling it down to rest around her neck.

"He hacked the Macronesian Intelligence Network?" Her voice, light and teasing a moment ago, had hardened to stone. "When? What did he find?"

Pearson shrugged again and leaned back against the desk, suddenly uncomfortable with having the full force of those vivid green eyes turned on him. He'd rarely ever been the subject of Sutton's undivided attention; as a mission coordinator, Sutton was usually doing twelve things at once, and he rarely received more than a tenth of her full regard. Now, however, all of her missions had concluded for the night, and the vidcomset that kept her in constant contact with all of her teams hung forgotten around her neck. In his delight at finally obtaining a juicy piece of gossip before she heard it, he'd forgotten how intense she could be when she really focused.

"This is important, Jack," she told him sharply, hands tightening on the back of her chair until her knuckles began to whiten. "Do you know how many of my people those Mac bastards have killed? If he's got a way into their intelligence network, _I want it_."

"I guess you can ask him at 0630 tomorrow, then," Pearson offered. "He belongs to Intel now. He'll be at the MC/IC meeting."

"Good." Her hands released the back of the chair, and, as easy as that, she transformed from a bloodthirsty vengeance-seeker back into the same sweet, delicate blonde she'd appeared to be before he'd mentioned the Macronesians. "I'll see him tomorrow, then."

"Better him than me," Pearson muttered.

"What was that?"

"Huh? Oh, uh...better set you free. You know, since we both have to be up for the meeting."

She let it slide, shooing him away from her work station as she began to log out of her programs. He'd almost made it to the door when she called his name.

"Jack, I don't remember...what did you say his name was?"

"I didn't. It's Wolenczak. Lucas Wolenczak."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: For those of you interested in the timeline, Lucas is 24 and the seaQuest has been missing for 6 years.

Prompt: You seem to know a lot. More than is good for you, I guess.

* * *

Lucas sat in one of the ergonomic, high-backed chairs around the conference table and glanced around at the other officers already in attendance. There were two male lieutenants, both dark-haired, well-muscled, and thirty-something, sitting together near the other end of the table. From the 'M' insignias on their collars, they were part of the Missions and Operations Department. They both looked over at him, clearly unimpressed by the 'I' on his own collar that labeled him as a member of Intelligence Department.

According to the orientation he'd received, both departments operated under the auspices of the Intelligence Security Divison; the ID gathered intelligence about enemy movements and bases, and the MOD set up short-term missions and long-term operations to infiltrate, spy on, or blow up the enemy, depending on the nature of the situation and the whim of the Mission Coordinator.

"You must be Wolenczak."

Lucas looked up to find a tall redheaded man grinning down at him. His eyes moved automatically to the man's collar, and the momentary relief he felt at the sight of the 'I' was quickly replaced by the realization that the man outranked him. He began to rise, but the lieutenant commander waved him back down to his chair.

"Easy, Wolenczak. We don't much hold with formality around here. We tend to find that people who get saluted are the first ones the enemy aims for."

"You have me at an advantage, sir," Lucas said, after taking a moment to appreciate that unusually sensible viewpoint. "You know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Jack Pearson," the man replied, offering Lucas a strong hand. "Just call me Pearson. We don't hold much with ranks around here either. Takes too long to say the whole thing, and we've got entirely too many lieutenants and commanders around here."

"Nice to meet you, Pearson," Lucas offered, and Pearson nodded in approval.

"Those guys over there are Lancaster and Doyle," Pearson told him, inclining his head toward the other men and lowering his voice. "MCs - Mission Coordinators. They don't think much of us intel slaves, and their side's been a little more miffed than usual with us the past few days."

"Why?"

Pearson shrugged. "A faulty piece of intel nearly blew a mission for one of the MCs. Typically there'd only be a little fallout, but Sutton's the best MC they've got, and somehow a few of them got it into their heads that we set her up with that faulty intel to screw up her track record."

"Did you?"

Pearson resisted the urge to recoil from the younger man's icy blue gaze, which threatened to bore a hole through his head. _First Sutton, now this_, Pearson thought, disgusted. _I've got to learn to keep my stupid mouth shut. _

"Never," Pearson informed him firmly. "As much as our two sides hate each other sometimes, we'd never knowingly screw them over. If they're not around to carry out the missions, what use is our intelligence? We'd just be screwing ourselves."

Wolenczak was still staring at him, judging what he'd said and obviously finding it questionable. Some long-buried part of his conscience forced him to add, "And they forget that they're not the only ones who like Sutton. She might be scary as hell sometimes, especially if you manage to piss her off, but you still can't help but like her."

A moment of silence passed, and then Pearson realized he'd allowed the junior officer's question to derail his original plan for the conversation.

"Speaking of Sutton," Pearson said, trying to get things back on track, "you can expect to hear from her soon. Very soon. Possibly in the next hour or so."

"Oh?"

"She heard through the rumor mill that you hacked into MIN. She wants details."

"About what?"

"Knowing Sutton, about everything." Pearson leaned back in his chair. "She's got this thing about the Macronesians."

"How so?"

"Basically, she'd like to see them all murdered in their beds, their houses burned, and their fields sown with salt." Pearson gave him a devious grin. "And since she thinks you've got information that'll help her do that, she's going to be on you like white on rice."

Lucas frowned. He'd been told during his orientation that all of the sensitive information he'd come across while hacking into the MIN and SECMO databases was not to be revealed to anyone without the express permission of Admiral Lowry, the head of ISD. When he told Pearson this, the taller man's response was a surprised laugh.

"The Old Man wants us to go through him to get to you?" Pearson asked, sounding thoughtful. "Huh."

"I would have assumed that was a typical precaution."

Pearson shook his head. "We're all exposed to classified information here, every day. For the Old Man to want you to keep your mouth shut, I'd say he thinks you seem to know a lot. More than is good for you, I guess."

Lucas contemplated that with a sinking heart. He hadn't really thought about the fact that these people, being trusted with sensitive information all the time, wouldn't have been restricted from learning what he knew unless there was something special about the knowledge. And now, if Pearson was to be believed, the best Misson Coordinator in ISD was going to grill him for the information.

"So I should watch out for Sutton?"

"Oh, feel free to watch out for her, but she's going to catch you regardless. Never underestimate a determined MC; they spend their lives making ridiculously elaborate plans to trap, interrogate, or kill enemy agents, and they don't have any qualms about using those skills on us."

"There's no point in making her try to catch me. I'll just tell her I've been ordered not to reveal the information," Lucas decided, but Pearson was shaking his head again.

"Make her chase you. Sutton's an MC to the core; she loves that stuff. She'll be disappointed if she doesn't get to toy with you a little before you surrender." Pearson straightened as the door to the room slid open again, and a small smile played across his face. "Speak of the devil."

Lucas followed Pearson's gaze across the room, where a slender blonde was walking over to the two lieutenants at the other end of the table. When she sat down next to them and he got his first good look at her, he thought Pearson must have been pulling his leg. He couldn't picture this woman raising her voice to anyone, let alone planning the extermination of an entire country.

She looked up then, soft green eyes meeting his, and he couldn't resist the urge to smile at her. That in itself was a shock, since he hadn't felt an irresistible urge to smile at anyone in nearly six years, but there was a warmth in her expression that was impossible to ignore. She was beautiful - really, truly, stunningly beautiful - and there was an aura of peace and happiness that seemed to hang in the air around her. It was ridiculous, but he could feel himself starting to relax just from his proximity to her.

And then her gaze shifted from him to Pearson, taking in their conspiratorial postures, and suddenly Lucas understood the other man's warning. Those soft green eyes narrowed and hardened into sharp, glittering emeralds, and her lovely patrician features darkened with anger. The warm aura was gone, replaced by an almost palpable fury. _Now_ he could picture her planning the extermination of an entire country - and he could picture her thoroughly enjoying it.

"Uh-oh," Pearson muttered, barely moving his lips. "She knows I warned you about her. I'm a dead man."

Lucas was still mesmerized by the sudden change in Sutton. "When she walked in, she seemed so…"

"Harmless?" Pearson finished for him. "She always does, right up until she decides you're standing between her and something she wants. And she wants your intel, Wolenczak. She'll stop at nothing to get it."

"But the admiral -"

"The admiral has a soft spot for her. Like I said, she's the best MC we've got. Chances are she'll be promoted to Regional Coordinator in the next few years. If she plays her cards right, she might have the admiral's job one day."

"Then shouldn't he just tell her what she wants to know?"

Pearson gave Lucas a pitying look.

"You still don't get it, do you?" he asked slowly, as though he was talking to a young child. "You're in the spy business now. We don't hand out information like candy. If you want something, you have to go after it. You can bargain or bribe or blackmail, play politics or declare a full-on war, but you never just _ask_ for it."

This seemed exceptionally stupid to Lucas, but Pearson was clearly so baffled at his lack of understanding that he didn't dare to push his luck.

"I'll remember that," he said instead, and Pearson nodded.

"You'd better. This is the big leagues, Wolenczak. Our people play for keeps. If you forget that, you'll be in trouble."

Looking back at Sutton, who had turned to speak with Lancaster, he found himself nodding in agreement. Sutton was obviously playing for keeps, and if he wasn't careful he'd wind up as a casualty of her personal war.


	6. Chapter 6

Prompt #9: Lights went out in the house and hamlet as they came, and doors were shut, and folk that were afield cried in terror and ran wild like hunted deer.

* * *

Lucas spent the next two days waiting for Sutton to come looking for him. Much to his surprise, although he saw her several times in the halls and in meetings, she never made any effort to stop or speak to him, and never once exhibited the same anger he'd seen when she'd realized Pearson had gotten to him before her. After all of Pearson's warnings about her single-minded desire to acquire his intel, he was beginning to worry about the reasons she might be postponing their confrontation, so on his third day as an Intelligence Specialist with ISD, Lucas sought out Jack Pearson.

He found Pearson sitting in Computer Bay Three, feet propped up on a nearby chair as he stared intently at the screen.

"Pearson?"

The redhead looked up and gave him a brief smile.

"Just give me a second, Wolenczak," he requested, returning his attention to the screen. "I just need to find…aha!"

He opened a new window on the screen, typed rapidly for a moment, and then shut it again before spinning his chair around to face Lucas.

"How's life treating you?"

"Not bad." Lucas was surprised to realize it was the truth. The work the Intelligence Division did was interesting and challenging, and it took all of his considerable computer skills to keep up with the workload. He was currently hunting down top-secret information about Macronesian troop movements, which required not only skill but also a good deal of subtlety to keep from being detected inside their system. "I've seen Sutton a few times, but she hasn't said a word to me."

"She's regrouping," Pearson told him. "She didn't expect me to warn you about her intentions, so now she's got to figure out another way to get you to tell her what she wants to know."

"What was the first way she was going to try?" Lucas wondered, and Pearson chuckled.

"I'd have thought that would be obvious when she came gliding into that meeting with her sunshine-and-rainbows guise on. Dazzle you, seduce you, and have your intel by the end of the week."

Lucas wanted to believe that it wouldn't have worked, but he recalled with perfect clarity just how beautiful she was. If she'd tried to seduce him, she might have succeeded.

"How did she do that?" he asked instead, not wanting to voice his traitorous thoughts. "How can anyone look that…that…"

"Irresistible?" Pearson leaned back, clearly contemplating how much he should say. "Our people have a wide range of talents," he replied finally. "Some are easy to spot. Some are more subtle than others. More insidious. The qualities that make Sutton such a good MC also make her very dangerous."

Lucas thought about that for a moment. What sorts of talents did Sutton possess that made her so dangerous? What could make a person so powerfully irresistible?

"She's a telepath," Lucas realized slowly, and Pearson smiled.

"No, but you're close. And I'm impressed; it usually takes people much longer to realize that their reactions to her aren't always of their own -"

Pearson stopped talking abruptly, gesturing toward the windows behind him.

"I swear she hears it when we take her name in vain."

Lucas looked to find Sutton walking down the hallway outside the room. He watched her move, noticing her steady, confident stride. He half-expected her to feel his eyes on her and look up, but she walked on around the corner without so much as a glance in his direction.

"She's either got a team heading in or out. That hallway leads to the briefing rooms."

"How often does she send a team out?"

"It depends on what the Macs are up to, so anywhere from once a week to twice a day. They try not to have any one MC running more than two missions and one operation at a time."

"Operations last more than three days, right?"

"Exactly. Missions are shorter; there are usually only a few hours when the team is actually in play. Not like it really matters to us, unless we're on SpecOps."

"SpecOps?"

"They didn't tell you." It wasn't a question. "If there's a mission or an operation in which, over the course of deployment, the team might need someone to help them access or contain sensitive intel, one of us goes with them."

"Of course. Why should the MODs have all the fun of being shot at?"

Pearson snickered appreciatively and turned back to his computer. Lucas glanced out the window again, and his eyes widened at the group of people heading down the hallway. He grabbed Pearson's shoulder reflexively and Pearson turned around in his chair, raising an eyebrow at Lucas before he realized what was going on.

"Ah. That's Zeta Team. They're Sutton's primary team," Pearson identified for Lucas. "Terrifying bunch, aren't they? 'Lights went out in the house and hamlet as they came, and doors were shut, and folk that were afield cried in terror and ran wild like hunted deer.'"

The quote was entirely appropriate, although Lucas wouldn't have used the sarcasm that Pearson had. They _were_ a terrifying bunch. The twelve team members were dressed all in black, bristling with a multitude of guns, knives, and various other concealed and not-so-concealed weapons. Not a single one could possibly have been less than six feet tall, and they had enough muscle among them to pick up the entire building and carry it across the street. Despite the fact that Lucas himself was nearly six feet tall and in the excellent physical shape the Navy expected of its officers, he wouldn't want to meet any of the members of Zeta Team in a dark alley. There was something predatory about them, and they carried themselves with the same air of confidence that Sutton displayed.

"You'll be safe from Sutton for at least another day," Pearson predicted. "When she's got a team out, she's attached to her vidcomset. When it's the Zetas, you can't distract her for love or money. They've been her primary team for two years, and she's very fierce about their success rate."

"Then I think I'll just get back to work, and stay well out of her way."

"Smart man," Pearson agreed, chuckling, and returned to his own work. Lucas headed back toward his own computer bay, but hesitated in the hallway. He glanced down toward the briefing rooms, wondering where Sutton's team was headed.

_None of my business_, he reminded himself. _I'm trying to avoid her. If I were smart, I'd get out of here before they finish their briefing. _

Nonetheless, it was another full minute before he managed to make himself leave the hallway.


	7. Chapter 7

Prompt 018. It's dangerous, yes it is. It burns, it kills.

* * *

Pearson scanned over another page of his research and sighed, rubbing his overtired eyes in a futile effort to refocus them. Although there were no external windows in the computer bays, he was certain the sun had long since fallen below the horizon, and the late hour was starting to catch up with him.

He pushed his chair back from his desk and stood, stretching his arms over his head with a groan. Maybe if he took a quick coffee break -

"Long day, Jack?"

Or maybe not.

"Sophie," he greeted her, not needing to turn around to know that her eyes were currently attempting to drill a hole in the back of his head. He could feel it, the same way he could feel the anger and confusion radiating from her. "I suppose you want to know why I told him."

"I suppose I do," she replied, her voice sharp. "What _possessed_ you to interfere? Men have died for less."

He did turn around then. If she was going to shoot him, he should at least do her the courtesy of facing her while she did it.

To his surprise, she wasn't pointing a gun at his heart. She didn't even appear to be armed, although that was often a fatal assumption to make around here. She was still in uniform, but her long blond hair had been freed from its usual braid and cascaded down her back, a few soft strands falling into her face. She looked lovely and childlike, and the wounded innocence in her eyes only added to the illusion.

And it _was _an illusion; Pearson knew full well that she was no innocent child. Privately, he thought of her as a sword, a shining golden blade that wielded itself with only one purpose - the destruction of the Macronesians. In her quest, he knew, everything and everyone was expendable, and she would cut down friends as quickly as enemies if she thought it would bring her closer to reaching her goal. There was no room in that quest for any emotions but loss and hatred, and no place in her life for love…

_Careful, Jack_, he told himself, trying without success to turn his thoughts away from that particular topic. _This line of thinking…it's dangerous, yes it is. It burns, it kills_.

"Wolenczak isn't like us," he said quietly, knowing his explanation would fall on deaf ears. "He's a decent guy who got caught up in something he didn't understand. He doesn't know how to play the game. When I told him you wanted his intel, he said he'd just tell you he wasn't allowed to give it to you. He was going to suggest that you ask the admiral to let him tell you." Her eyes had widened in disbelief, and he nodded, wondering if for once he was getting through to her. "He's an innocent, Sophie. He doesn't understand how our world works. I figured the least I could do was to warn him about you."

"I can still break him," she informed Pearson. Her voice had lost its sharp edge, though, and she seemed more thoughtful than anything. "Knowing I'm after his intel isn't going to protect him from anything but my most obvious attempts. Sooner or later, I'll get what I want."

"I know you will." He hoped the weariness in his own voice wasn't as audible as he thought it was. "And with his sense of duty, once he realizes what he's done he might actually break. I'm guessing you won't be interested in sticking around to pick up the pieces."

"Sense of duty," she repeated slowly, blinking as though a fuzzy picture had just resolved into a solid image in front of her eyes. "Duty and honor…"

She turned on her heel and disappeared out the door without so much as a by-your-leave. Pearson sagged gratefully into his chair again, feeling an invisible weight lifting from his chest. The conversation hadn't been as bad as he'd feared it might; she hadn't even made an attempt on his life.

He took a deep breath, relieved, and realized that the faint scent of her shampoo lingered in the air.

"That can only end in misery," he told himself aloud, but the memory of that wounded look flashed in his mind and he knew it was no use. She'd captured his heart years ago, and there was nothing he could do about it now.

Sighing, he shut down his computer and gathered his things. There was no way he'd be getting any more work done tonight. As he headed out of the computer bay, he took a moment to feel genuinely sorry for Wolenczak. Whatever Sophie had planned for him, the result was inevitable. Sophie was an irresistible force, and in the end she would get her intel. He only hoped Wolenczak would be able to escape relatively intact.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry about the enormously long hiatus. I'll try to be a little quicker with the next chapter.

Prompt 31: But oft the unbidden guest proves the best company.

* * *

The knock at his door was almost but not quite entirely unexpected. It would have been altogether unexpected, but he'd called the landlord and complained about a leaky pipe last week, so despite the late hour he assumed that the knock was the maintenance man finally coming to patch the leak.

He was wrong. In the hallway, looking soft and lovely in a cashmere sweater and worn jeans, was Sophie Sutton.

"Uh..." he began, reaching for an excuse to get rid of her, but she gave him a tired smile and he felt his resistance melting away.

"I know it's late, but may I come in? Just for a little while?"

He stepped back, giving her room to enter while he tried desperately to gather his thoughts into some sort of coherent sentence.

"Have a seat," he offered finally, gesturing toward the couch. "I wasn't really expecting you."

"I'm sorry about that. But oft the unbidden guest proves the best company, right?"

"Uh...right."

She flopped down on his couch, giving him a look laced with amusement. "I know what Pearson told you. Relax; I'm not going to ask you to give me any intel."

Despite his better judgment, he found himself sitting down next to her on the couch instead of sitting in the chair across from her as he'd originally planned. He knew she was dangerous, but she was also so damnably beautiful...

"Then why are you here?"

She sighed, looking contemplative for a minute, and then shrugged.

"In all honesty? I wanted to tell you a story."

"A story," he repeated, doubtful, and she nodded.

"It's not long. It's about a man who was one of ISD's best MCs."

She paused, glancing at him, and he gestured for her to continue.

"He joined ISD after a few years in Section Seven. Worked for them for almost twenty years. He had a family, a wife and six kids, and he'd run his missions when he was needed and go home to the family farm in Podunk, Alabama when he wasn't." She leaned forward, toward him, as though she was unable to contain her emotions and wanted to draw him into the story with her. "He wasn't one of the best, Lucas. He was _the _best. ISD had never seen anything like him. His mission track record was impeccable. He cared about his people and his missions, and he was the smartest man I've ever met."

Lucas made a noncommittal noise of agreement, not sure how he felt about Sutton calling him by his first name and trying to resist the urge to lean closer to her as she had to him.

Sutton, noticing his reluctance, clamped firmly down on the weary sigh that threatened to escape her. It had taken her days to set this whole thing up, and if he didn't go for it, she was going to be seriously pissed. He was going to be a hard sell, that was all. She'd made harder sales before.

"The Navy had been hearing rumors that someone was developing a new weapon in New Zealand. He and his team were deployed to destroy the weapon and capture or kill the man responsible for its development."

It didn't take a genius to read Sutton's expression and know where the story was headed.

"He was killed."

"They were all killed." For the first time since the day he'd seen her in the ISD conference room, he saw her bright green eyes narrow in anger. It was far more intimidating than it had any right to be, coming from someone who looked as harmless as she did. "It was a trap. They were ambushed just outside of Tauranga. No one could tell his family who'd killed him or how the team had been caught. It was suspected that one of the team members might have been a traitor, but that took almost ten years to prove."

"So one of his people did turn against him?" He wasn't certain, yet, but he was starting to think he knew where she was going with this.

Sutton bit her lip, then reached into the pocket of her jeans, coming up with an old photograph, creased and worn with age. He took it wordlessly when she offered it to him and studied the picture. The man was tall and fair-haired, with broad shoulders beneath his Navy uniform. The little girl he held in his arms was angelically beautiful, with a halo of white-blonde hair and a pair of emerald eyes that sparkled with laughter.

"His youngest daughter was nine when he was killed."

"He was your father."

It wasn't a question - even fifteen years later, the woman in front of him bore an uncanny resemblance to her younger self. He wondered idly whether she ever laughed like that anymore. Somehow, he doubted it.

"After his death, my older brother joined up." She managed half a smile, remembering the unholy row that had caused. "My mother nearly killed him herself. Not that she needed to," she added, the smile slipping away. "Six months in, he managed to get himself sent to New Zealand, trying to figure out what happened to our father, and he ended up just as dead as Dad."

"And when you were old enough, you followed after them." That wasn't a question, either, but Sutton nodded. "I bet your mother was furious."

"No," she replied, sounding suddenly sad as she took the picture from his unresisting fingers and shoved it back into her pocket. "My father's death shook her, but losing Steven - my brother - that was the end of her. She didn't give a damn what the rest of us did after that. It was like she couldn't bear to suffer any more, so she just stopped caring."

Pearson had warned him that Sutton would do anything to get what she wanted, and that she was a world-class manipulator, but some instinct told him that this was the truth. He still wasn't sure what her game was, but he knew the pain of having parents who were beyond caring what happened to him, and he recognized a kindred spirit when he saw one.

"You found the traitor?"

"Of course." There was the cold confidence she usually displayed, invisible until now. "Lieutenant Bertrand Kieler, my father's second in command. He goes by another name now: Armand Stassi."

"Stassi," Lucas repeated, his mind racing. "General Armand Stassi. The head of the Macronesian military."

She tilted her head in acknowledgement. "He spent three years infiltrating the Navy. He was the only spy I know of who actually managed to infiltrate ISD. And all of his orders, even back then, were issued by the great Alexander Bourne."

"That's why you hate the Macs? Why you're so invested in this war?"

Sutton met his gaze directly, her face expressionless. "I made a promise to my father and my brother. I keep my promises."

He nodded slowly, absorbing what she'd told him. It all made sense, except for one thing.

"Why tell me all of this?"

Her expression changed, now made up of half sheepish embarrassment and half determined defiance. He didn't believe the embarrassment for a second, but the defiance rang true.

"I've been told by the admiral that he will not lift his restriction on the information you retrieved when you hacked into MIN. The only person you'll ever be authorized to give the details to, other than him, is your partner."

That brought him up short. "I don't have a partner."

"You will." She offered him a tentative smile. "If you're willing to have me, that is."

He supposed he should have seen that coming. It was a decent plan, actually, and it must have been what the admiral had in mind when he'd told Sutton about his restriction. Unless Sutton had gone to the admiral with a plan already in the works and convinced him that Lucas needed a partner…

ISD logic was ridiculously convoluted, and he decided he didn't have the patience just now to try and do the mental gymnastics it would take to figure out how Sutton had managed to set this up. The way he saw it, he only had two good options; he could go along with Sutton's plan, or he could try to fight her. Going along with her would doubtless be dangerous, but from what Jack had said and what Lucas himself had witnessed over the past few weeks, fighting her was likely to be fatal.

But then again, there might be a third option…

"Lucas?"

"I'll do it," he said, watching her expression carefully as he spoke. "On two conditions."

She'd be a spectacular poker player, he decided; he couldn't read anything from her face, which supported his belief that most of the emotions he'd observed from her so far were a show put on for his benefit.

"Name them."

"From here on out, you're going to be completely honest with me. I don't care what kind of games you play with everyone else in ISD, but as my partner, you're going to be straightforward with me. No tricks, no mind games, no double talk. Just tell me the truth."

Sutton looked a little baffled, but she nodded anyway. It was a sad statement on ISD, Lucas reflected, that she had so much trouble imagining someone wanting to hear the truth all the time.

"And the second condition?"

Lucas leaned forward. "If none of this had ever happened - if your father and brother were still alive, if you'd never joined the Navy, if the Macronesians didn't exist - what would you be doing right now?"

Now she looked completely stumped. "Seriously?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. It was his turn to stay expressionless, and after a few moments she sighed. "I don't know, Wolenczak. I'd probably have a husband and six kids and be living on a farm back in Alabama. Does it matter?"

"It does," he informed her. "Because my second condition is that I get you."

That was clearly more along the lines of what she'd been expecting. She leaned closer to him, but stopped short at his raised hand.

"Not the way you're thinking," he said, although he silently called himself seven kinds of an idiot for turning down the offer. "I'll work with you to take down the Macronesians, but only on the condition that once we've won the war, you'll get us both out of ISD and we'll get married, move to Alabama, buy a farm, and have some kids."

She stared at him for several seconds, and then burst into laughter. She had a nice laugh, he decided. He'd have to make it a point to get her to laugh more often.

Eventually she managed to catch her breath, and she grinned at him as she wiped away tears of mirth.

"Wolenczak, you are something else, you know that?" She sighed contentedly, leaning back against the couch. "Come on. What do you really want?"

"That _is_ what I really want." He folded his arms across his chest. "Those are my conditions, Sutton. Take them or leave them."

"Are you insane? I mean, clinically insane?" Now she regarded him with concern. "ISD usually screens out mentally ill officers before they make it this far."

"I'm not crazy." He considered the conversation they'd just had and decided to qualify his answer. "Not that I'm aware of, anyway."

"Then what could you possibly be thinking?"

She didn't really need to know that he was asking himself the same question.

"Does it matter?" he replied, parroting her own question back at her. He was going to have to do some serious introspection to figure out what had possessed him to make marrying Sutton one of his conditions - other than the obvious motivation, of course, which was directly related to how good she looked in that sweater. That was for later, though; he'd given her his conditions and he was going to stand by them, no matter how insane they seemed. "You need me, Sutton. If there were a way for you to get what you want without me, you wouldn't be here. The offer's only good for the next thirty seconds. What do you say?"

Sutton gave him a calculating look. "You realize that if we both survive this war, I'm going to make the rest of your life a living hell?"

"Mine and the kids'," he agreed, holding out his hand. "I'm looking forward to watching you rule the PTA with an iron fist. Do we have a deal?"

He had to give her credit; when it was time to take decisive action, she never hesitated.

"Deal."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I haven't updated this in a million years, and I'm sorry. :( Hopefully I'll have another chapter up this week.

* * *

028. Under the shadow of bushes leaning out over the water they halted and drew breath.

* * *

"Keep moving!"

Lucas put on a burst of extra speed, trying to keep up with Carter and Demarin and wondering why he'd agreed to this nonsense. He was an intel coordinator, not an MOD, and yet here he was running through a dense forest trying to avoid being shot.

"Demarin," he managed to get out, a protest on his lips, and the taller man gave him a lopsided grin that seemed entirely inappropriate to their current situation.

"Fifty more yards and we'll take a break," Demarin promised, slowing a little so that Lucas could pass him and taking up the rear guard, rifle held confidently in his hands. Carter led the way to a small stream running through the forest, where the foliage thickened, and finally slowed to a stop by the bank of the stream. Lucas dropped gratefully to the ground, and under the shadow of bushes leaning out over the water, they halted and drew breath.

"How are they moving so fast?" he demanded of Demarin. Talking with Carter seemed pointless, since in the two months since he'd become Sophie's partner the man had said less than a dozen words to him. Demarin was far more talkative.

"Hell if I know," Demarin admitted. "We're going as fast as we can and they still keep gaining on us. At this rate, they'll have us before we even get to the cabin."

"If you'd go faster without me -"

"We don't leave people behind." The response was automatic and firm, and then Demarin's expression relaxed into another easy smile. "Besides, we've barely had to slow down for you, sir. For an intelligence geek, you're in pretty good shape. No offense, sir."

"I'm too tired to take offense," Lucas replied, but he was silently pleased that Demarin didn't think he was holding them back. He'd made an extra effort to step up his physical training after he'd realized that Sophie intended for both of them to go out in the field with her teams; apparently, it was paying off.

Zeta Team was fairly typical in its makeup for an ISD team, as far as the numbers and types of personnel. ISD teams were structured similarly to the way that US Navy SEAL teams had been structured in the past: one commanding officer, the MC, was in charge of a group of ten to sixteen enlisted personnel. In the case of Zeta Team, there were twelve enlisted personnel, and they were a mix of first and second class petty officers, with two chief petty officers who acted as Sutton's seconds in the field. They were also the highest ranking members of the team on missions where Sutton was not deployed with them, so if communications failed they were in charge of completing the mission and getting everyone out in one piece.

Each team member had their own specialty, although they were called on to perform general duties in the field as well. Demarin's specialty was transport and supply, and Carter was one of the team's two snipers. They all trained as a unit in their downtime to strengthen their _esprit de corps_, or so Sophie had informed him before dragging him into this day-long woodland trek.

As far as Lucas could tell, all they seemed to do was train and go on missions. He'd been Sutton's partner for two months, and he still had no idea if any of the members of this team had any hobbies or interests outside of their designated specialties. A lot of that was Sophie's example, he knew; he'd certainly never overheard her telling any of this lot the personal story she'd told him when she convinced him to become her partner. She was all business, and right now she and her half of the unit were hunting down his little band of fighters in a deranged version of paintball that seemed to be the favorite training exercise for this team.

He opened his mouth to tell Demarin they should probably get moving again, and was knocked to his knees by the force of the high-velocity paintballs that hit him in the back. Sutton's group had clearly caught up with them.

Since he was 'dead' now, three direct hits being enough for whoever had shot him to count him as a kill, he didn't bother to try and get up. Instead, he braced his hands on his thighs, taking a moment to catch his breath and adjust to the ache that was starting to radiate from his back around to the front of his chest.

Demarin and Carter had dropped at the sound of the gunfire, and Carter was currently picking off members of Sutton's group from his position half-hidden in the underbrush. Demarin had been hit, a bright pink streak on his arm, but he'd switched his rifle to the opposite shoulder and was making a good showing even one-armed. He took out Shaw and Kennedy from the other side before one of their teammates managed to score a hit on the side of his helmet. Unlike Kennedy, he didn't bother to enact a dramatic death scene, simply dropping his rifle and flopping the rest of the way down onto the ground.

Now it was just Carter defending their position by the river, and although he got in some good shots against Sutton's side, he was eventually taken out by Sutton herself, who'd somehow managed to climb a tree unnoticed and picked him off from the height.

When Sutton's group joined them in the clearing, he realized that they were followed by the other four who'd been on his side, all with multiple pink paint splatters that showed they'd been 'killed' before Lucas and his group.

"You were the last holdouts," Sutton told the three of them with approval. "You might've lost us back at the fork in the path, but someone dropped this."

Carter groaned when she held up a bright purple paintball, the color of the ones issued to their side.

"Probably mine, ma'am," he admitted. "I had a magazine malfunction. It must have slipped out while I was reloading."

Sutton said nothing about the error. Lucas didn't know Carter very well yet, but he did know that the man was a perfectionist, so Sophie's omission was likely because it would have been unnecessary to take him to task for dropping the ball. Having done it once, it was a mistake he wouldn't allow himself to make again.

"Strong showing by your half, Lieutenant," Sutton said as they all grouped together and headed back to the base. Kelson, the weapons expert, took the opportunity to grab Carter's malfunctioning magazine and examine it for himself, to Carter's consternation. None of the team members seemed to be paying attention to the two officers, who had fallen back a little and were now trailing the group.

"Yeah, but you trained them," he pointed out, noting vaguely that it was still odd to hear himself called 'lieutenant'. The transfer to ISD had come with a promotion to lieutenant j.g., and he found that it was taking as long to acclimate himself to the promotion as it had to get used to being an ensign. "All I had to do was keep up with them."

She gave him an impudent grin. "I know. That's the part that impressed me."

Lucas rolled his eyes, and felt an odd sort of contentment as he hiked through the forest toward the ISD base. They weren't the _seaQuest_ crew, but they were a team, and they seemed to have accepted him into the fold. If they weren't friends, they were at least colleagues with whom he shared mutual respect, and Sutton - Sutton was an enigma that he was going to have to spend a little more time considering.

As they reached the base entry, Wallace and Kelson leading the way and bickering about which assault rifles would be the best choice for armament on their next mission and Graham and Melahar quietly debating types of explosives behind him while Sutton instructed Martinez and Lightman on the finer points of enemy camp infiltration, he prayed that he wouldn't end up getting too attached to these people. They put their lives in danger far more often than the _seaQuest_ crew ever had, and he wasn't sure how many more people he could lose before he cracked entirely down the middle.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: The next chapter, as promised. :)

* * *

022. He picked up his shears and exhibited them as evidence.

* * *

This time, when Sophie appeared on his doorstep, he was expecting her. He went through all of the polite nonsense of having a guest - taking her coat, offering her a drink, showing her into the living room and giving her the choice of where she wanted to sit. She chose the chair rather than the couch, and with some relief he flopped down onto the couch alone. He wasn't sure how he felt about having her next to him on the couch tonight, not with what she had planned.

"Working on a project?" she asked, noticing the scraps of wire and plastic scattered on the coffee table.

"Rewiring one of the vidcomsets." He picked up his shears and exhibited them as evidence. "It got a little messy. The video pickup is improved, though, and I think I'll be able to boost the audio as well."

"That's fantastic." She sounded like she meant it, which didn't surprise him. As a mission coordinator, sometimes the only method of contact she had with her team was through the vidcomset, so if there was any glitch in the technology, it could mean that her team would be stranded without any way for her to reach them. "Will you submit the improvements to R and D, or are you planning to do this all under the table?"

"I'll do whatever you think is better," he replied, having found that to be the best dodge of all the methods he'd tried so far with her. It was infinitely preferable to choosing a plan and hoping she didn't disagree with it. When Sophie disagreed, things could get sticky, and he quite frankly didn't care enough one way or another about what happened to the improved vidcomset design to argue with her about it. Choosing his battles wisely was something he'd learned early in life, and it was part of why his partnership with Sophie had gone smoothly so far. "Did you bring the stuff?"

In response, she reached into her bag and produced a syringe and a vial of medication.

"G161," she identified for him, rising from the chair as she shook the vial to mix it and uncapped the syringe to draw up the clear liquid. "The most widely used truth serum on the market. Once you've developed a tolerance to it, I'll feel better about you being in the field with me."

She set the empty vial back down on the table and gestured for him to stand up. He rolled up his sleeve, sure that he wasn't going to enjoy this.

"How many times will we have to do this?"

"A couple," she admitted. "The effects are always strongest at the first exposure, though, so the experience should be more pleasant the second time around. The effects will last about three hours. At the end of it, you'll probably start feeling sedated; that's normal, and you'll be safe to sleep it off. I'm just here to make sure you don't have a bad reaction to it."

"What would you do if I did?" he asked, his voice full of dry humor. "The sum total of your medical training appears to be the knowledge of where to hit, stab, or shoot someone to cause the most pain. I can't imagine you'd do me a lot of good if I had an allergic reaction."

"I could put you out of your misery," she pointed out thoughtfully, her free hand dropping to the small of her back, and he cursed his big mouth for putting the idea into her head. She didn't pull out a gun, though; instead, she produced a little device that resembled a pen. "Or I could inject you with this."

"Epinephrine?" he guessed, and she rolled her eyes.

"Please. That's for the uninformed. This -" She held up the pen, eyeing it speculatively. "This is the antidote for G-161."

"I thought there wasn't an antidote. That's why they make us become desensitized to this stuff."

She eyed him with that now-familiar expression of mingled uncertainty and amusement, the one that told him he was doing or saying something that reminded her how unsuited to the spy game he really was.

"I suppose you want me to tell you the truth." Her intonation of the word suggested that she found it distasteful. "The antidote isn't widely available, and it's not guaranteed that it would be available in every situation where you might be exposed to G-161. You need the desensitization in case of long-term capture and/or imprisonment by the enemy."

"Charming," he muttered. As usual, he was sorry he'd asked.

He turned his head away when she injected him with the truth serum. He didn't have any particular phobia about needles, but he also had no interest in watching her jab him with one. It wasn't any more painful than a vaccination, and after the injection he didn't feel particularly different.

Sophie instructed him to remain on the couch for the first several minutes, in case he had a reaction to the drug. She moved back to the chair across from him, reaching into her bag to produce a bottle of water and, of all things, a fashion magazine. She took a swig of the water and then set the bottle down on the coffee table, and for all intents and purposes appeared to lose herself in the glossy pages of her magazine.

Lucas watched her silently for at least fifteen minutes, but she didn't once attempt to engage him in conversation or even look up to catch his eye. Eventually, he got tired of waiting for her to start the interrogation. Sophie Sutton would never pass up the opportunity that this situation presented; he just had to figure out what her angle was.

"Don't you want to ask me anything?"

Sophie glanced up from her magazine, the picture of polite disinterest. "What would I want to ask you?"

"Oh, I can think of a dozen things," he replied, ignoring her mildly insulting tone. "Troop movements? Long-term Macronesian strike plans? Other little intelligence tidbits I might not have disclosed to you?"

"You're my partner," she said, returning her attention to the magazine. "Either you're doing your job and giving me the information I need, or it's only a matter of time until you get us both killed. I think it's the former, and if it's the latter, I prefer to be surprised."

He considered that in silence, watching as she turned the page and became engrossed in another article.

"What are you reading?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Wolenczak, are you bored, or does the truth serum just turn you into a bigger pain in my ass than usual?"

Lucas shifted in his seat. "I just can't believe there's nothing you want to ask me while I'm under the influence of this stuff. It's a one-shot deal; the more exposure I have to it, the less likely it is that I'll answer your questions. Tonight is the best opportunity you're going to have. If our roles were reversed, I'd have a million questions for you."

"I'm not you," she pointed out. "That's one way you can tell the difference. Another way you can tell the difference is that _I'm_ not annoying _you_."

He let her return to her magazine, waiting several minutes before interrupting her again. He wasn't sure if it was the truth serum making him chatty, but he suspected his surprise had more to do with it. He'd really been expecting a rapid-fire interrogation from her tonight, and her disinterest had him stumped.

"Isn't there _anything_ you want to ask about?"

"Now that you mention it, there is." She held up the magazine, pointing to the model on the left-hand page. "Do you think I'd look good in this?"

"You look good in everything." It wasn't even a compliment, really, just a statement of fact. He studied the picture more closely. "Although I wouldn't recommend running in it. It looks like it'd constrict your movements…and if you wore those shoes, you'd be risking a broken ankle."

"If I wore those shoes, I'd deserve the broken ankle," she retorted, shaking her head at the six-inch heels the model wore. "They're probably so uncomfortable that I'd wind up wanting to chop off my own feet anyway."

"Sophie?"

She dropped the magazine onto the table, exhaling sharply. "_What_, Wolenczak?"

"Don't you want to know why I asked you to marry me?"

That was the real reason he was so antsy. He'd known that question would be coming tonight, had prepared and discarded a dozen different answers in preparation. Waiting for her to bring it up was torture; better just to broach the subject himself and take the chance that she hadn't planned to ask.

She contemplated him for a long moment. "No," she said finally, turning her gaze back to the magazine and leaving him gaping at her.

He stayed silent for several minutes. He tried to speak, but every time he opened him mouth, his thoughts scattered again. He literally could not wrap his mind around the concept that Sutton didn't care why he'd put that bizarre stipulation on his agreement to their partnership. He wasn't even sure that he knew why he'd done it, although the amount of time he'd spent thinking about it in the past day had given him some insight that he hadn't had before.

"You're staring at me." She flipped another page in the magazine. "It's obnoxious. Stop."

"You…" He shook his head in disbelief. "I think I'm offended."

For some reason, that seemed to strike Sutton as funny. She snickered, then started to giggle, and eventually dissolved into full-blown laughter. He was torn between feeling insulted and enjoying the rare sight of Sophie Sutton in a fit of good humor.

"Glad I could amuse you," he said finally as her laughter started to trail off, and he was relieved that his tone didn't reveal that her smile left a tight feeling in his chest.

Sophie leaned forward, elbows propped on her knees, bright eyes sparkling with glee.

"Wolenczak, I have a feeling you're going to be amusing me for the rest of our lives, however short they may be, so you should probably get used to it."

"I don't understand." He knew he sounded plaintive, but he couldn't help it. "If things were different and it was you who'd made the condition, the curiosity would be eating me alive."

"Maybe I'm not as curious as you are." Her gaze was penetrating, and he squirmed uncomfortably beneath it. "We all have our secrets, Lucas. Maybe I'm just willing to let you keep yours. Or maybe I already know the reason."

"Then enlighten me, by all means," he told her, huffing out a sharp breath. "Because I can't seem to figure it out."

"Can't you?"

Truth serum couldn't actually force someone to tell the truth, Lucas knew. That was why people could be trained to resist it. It could lower their inhibitions, making them susceptible to suggestion and clouding their judgment, allowing the truth to slip out unchecked. It couldn't make his brain sift through the hundred theories he'd come up with to explain his own behavior and pick out the one that disguised the kernel of truth he'd been hiding even from himself.

"I can't be alone again."

Or maybe it could. He'd have to do a little more reading on truth serum, apparently.

Sutton's expression had gone carefully blank, hiding…something. He could never be sure with her. He wasn't as concerned with her reaction anymore, anyway. He was too busy trying to figure out why he'd said what he'd said.

"I guess - I guess maybe it's because of losing _seaQuest_. Or because of my parents, or my lousy childhood, or alienation from my peers because I was so far ahead of everyone else my age. Take your pick. But over the years, I've lost everyone I ever cared about. Everything that ever meant anything to me is gone." He looked down at his hands, studying the familiar topography of his fingers; anything to keep from meeting Sutton's unreadable gaze. "If I'm going to let you in, to start caring about what happens to you, I need - something. A guarantee that you won't leave me like everyone else has."

There was silence again. Lucas kept his eyes on the back of his left hand, studying a small cut on one knuckle that he couldn't remember acquiring. He wondered what Sophie was thinking, but resolved that this time she would have to be the one to break the silence.

"Why trust me?" She sounded curious. "You knew right from the beginning that I was a professional liar, a spy to the core. Jack warned you about me specifically. Why believe any guarantee I would offer you?"

He thought of the picture she'd shown him, of the flaxen-haired little girl held securely in her father's arms, and smiled wryly.

"You keep your promises." He finally looked up, catching the ghost of surprise on her face before she could hide it. "The important ones, anyway. You'll keep this one."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I'm so glad that there are still people reading this story! Please review and let me know what you think :)

* * *

003. I suppose you feel that everything has gone off splendidly and according to plan?

* * *

"This is a cluster."

"Don't be such a pessimist, Wolenczak."

Lucas gave the back of Sutton's head an incredulous look.

"We're stranded in the middle of the desert, we've lost contact with our entire team, and our target just showed up to the rendezvous ahead of schedule with a truck full of armed guards. I suppose you feel that everything has gone off splendidly and according to plan?"

"It still will, if I can get a bead on him." Sutton's attention was completely occupied by the view through her rifle scope. She probably hadn't noticed that the two of them were alone on a ridge, lying flat but still likely visible to the people below them if any of those idiots ever bothered to look up, at which point this would become a game to see which of the bad guys at the rendezvous managed to kill them first. Hell, she probably hadn't even noticed that the wind was kicking up, the first warning sign that a sandstorm might come roaring through here and wipe them all off the face of the planet, weapons dealers and military commandos alike.

After a moment's consideration, he took back the second part of that thought. Sophie might not have been a sniper by designation, but she had the training, and all snipers noticed changes in the weather. She probably hadn't put any thought into it beyond its effect on the trajectory of her bullet, however.

Lucas lay as still as possible, cursing the failed communications equipment, the weapons dealers, the godforsaken desert, and the crazy mission profile Sophie had supplied that left the two of them up here exposed on this damned ridge. When they'd initially gone over the profile, back in the safety of the ISD base, it had seemed just crazy enough to work. Now that he was seeing it in action, complete with an unplanned mechanical failure and brewing meteorological interference, he was ready to drop the 'enough to work' part of his opinion.

"The wind is getting stronger," he murmured, and she replied with a noncommittal noise that meant she wasn't paying him the slightest bit of attention. He lifted his own binoculars, watching with trepidation as the weapons dealer, Ghazal, instructed his men to lift the crates of weaponry out of the back of the covered truck. "And they're getting ready to make the deal."

"The buyer isn't here yet," she replied, proving that she was at least hearing him. "He should…ah, there he is."

The plume of dust was the first indication that there was another vehicle approaching. It turned out to be an SUV, probably armored although it was hard to tell at this distance even with binoculars, and when it arrived their mysterious buyer emerged, heading over to shake hands with Ghazal.

A shout from one of the guards drew Lucas's attention, and his heart sank to the vicinity of his knees when he realized that they were pointing toward the ridge where he and Sophie were currently ensconced.

"We're blown. Sutton -"

"Ten seconds." Her tone brooked no dissention, and he watched with trepidation as the barrel of her rifle moved barely a centimeter to the right, her finger tightening on the trigger. He didn't need to see the scene at the staging area to know the results of the shot; judging from the immediate increase in the amount of shouting, she had to have hit either the dealer or the buyer.

"We need to go!"

"I can get the other one." She was already repositioning her gun for the next shot as the repetitive crack of automatic weaponsfire rang out from below them. Lucas looked down at the gathered guards and swore fluently.

"That's a grenade launcher -"

And then the unnamed guard pulled the trigger. His aim wasn't terribly good, but it didn't have to be when he was firing grenades at them.

"Incoming!" Lucas shouted, knowing even as he said the word that it wouldn't change anything, that Sophie would stay right where she was until she'd completed the mission even if it got her killed.

Later, he couldn't remember exactly what he'd been thinking. All he did remember was his body hitting hers, covering her as her finger drew back on the trigger and the grenade landed less than fifteen meters from their position. After that, everything was pain, and then darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: My imagination is officially thrilled to be running loose in this story universe again. :) A heartfelt thank you to the reviewers - you're the best!

* * *

040. I wish I could carry you. You aren't fit to walk any further.

* * *

"Lucas? Lucas, look at me."

Normally he was agreeable to Sophie's demands, however unreasonable, but his head was pounding and he didn't have any particular interest in opening his eyes at that point in time.

"_Now_, Wolenczak!"

His eyes opened of their own accord at the imperious command. He found Sophie leaning over him, looking as worried as he'd ever seen her. He wasn't sure why. Well, maybe there had been something about the arms deal, and then a grenade…he started to remember, but it slipped away just like Darwin had during the games of underwater tag they used to play on the _seaQuest_. He hadn't thought about Darwin in a while…

"Lucas, talk to me. Say something."

Right. Darwin was gone, but Sophie was still there. There was something important he needed to tell her, something he hadn't wanted to forget. Looking into her anxious face, it came to him with sudden clarity.

"This was a bad plan."

Sophie snorted, putting pressure on the makeshift bandage to try and stop the blood still seeping from his head wound.

"It was a great plan," she argued. "The execution, however, left a little something to be desired."

"What happened?"

"What happened is that you got caught by a frag grenade, you ass."

He was still fuzzy on the details, but nonetheless he was pretty sure that was unfairly pejorative on her part.

"I think you were the one who was going to get hit by the grenade," he pointed out around the steady throbbing in his head. "Which make you the - ow!"

She'd applied a little more pressure to the side of his head, and the bongo drums that had set up shop between his ears increased their speed to double-time in response. In the long moment that it took him to recover his equilibrium, he noticed several important things. First, this was not the inside of a hospital or a transport vehicle. If he didn't miss his guess, they were in a cave, which meant they were probably still out in the desert somewhere. Second, they appeared to be alone, which was a mixed blessing. Their teammates weren't there, but neither were the guys with the grenade launchers and the automatic weapons.

Third, Sophie was out of uniform. Really out of uniform. Her camouflage top was missing, as was the tank top she routinely wore under it, leaving just her black sports bra. No dog tags, of course; the last thing spies wanted was to be wearing identification on the job.

"Enjoying the view?" she needled him, and in his resultant stammering denial he missed the relieved look that passed over her face. If he was well enough to ogle her, he might be well enough to survive this little misadventure.

The top from her combat utilities had been sacrificed to bandage the gash on his leg, and her tank top was currently serving as a gauze pad for the smaller but substantially bloodier and therefore more worrisome gash on the side of his head. She knew scalp wounds always bled like crazy, but she had no idea where their team was or if help was coming, and with a group of armed unfriendlies presumably still in the area, he couldn't afford the weakness that the blood loss would cause.

"We may have to move again," she told him regretfully. She hadn't enjoyed the frenzied scramble it had taken to get him this far, half-dragging her barely conscious partner down the side of the ridge and up the next one until she'd spotted the cave. "I wish I could carry you. You aren't fit to walk any further."

"I walked here?" He sounded impressed with himself. "Huh. I feel terrible. My head is…mmph…"

"_Walked_ is a strong word for it," she informed him. "Hopefully our people will find us first and it won't be an issue."

"Hopefully," he repeated, but his voice was soft, the word almost sing-song in its cadence. "Hopefully…"

She swore as his eyelids fluttered shut, giving him a rough shake that should have sent him halfway to the roof of the cave in pain but drew only a low moan from his throat.

"Damn it, Wolenczak!"

Her options had just narrowed to two - she could do nothing and hope he didn't slip into a coma and die, or she could drop her internal shields and hope that she had enough power to revive him. Her meager psychic talent was a quirky thing, fairly useless in the grand scheme of events, but at short range she could sometimes influence people's emotions. She used it mostly to her own advantage, or to convince targets that she was harmless long enough to get them alone during undercover missions. Hitting Lucas with the full force of it might be enough to shock him awake. It would also leave her momentarily disoriented, but it was a risk she was going to have to take if she wanted him conscious.

Muttering dire imprecations under her breath, she dropped her shields and gave him a jolt that was the equivalent of a direct punch to the limbic system. It worked, somewhat to her surprise. His eyes snapped open, his back arching reflexively at the unexpected hit he'd taken. Sophie lost her balance and slipped from her half-crouching position, landing hard on her side next to him as he gasped for air.

"Lucas," she breathed, levering herself up on her elbow and taking in his wild gaze with dismay. She'd hit him too hard and left him reeling, disconnected from reality. It was a danger of psychic attacks, but she honestly hadn't thought she was strong enough to cause it. She had to pull him back in somehow, but her store of psychic energy was thoroughly depleted, and the laughably short course of psi training she'd received hadn't mentioned any other methods.

Out of desperation more than anything else, she pressed the length of her body against his and kissed him fiercely, hoping that the physical contact would be enough. It wasn't, for an agonizingly long moment - and then his lips moved against hers as he started to respond.

She would tell him later that he'd been the one to deepen the kiss, the one to push it from a necessary action into something more personal, something passionate. He would smile and nod and say nothing, and she would let herself pretend that his memory of the incident was fuzzy and he believed her version of events, no matter how outrageous the lie was.

When she finally pulled away, he sagged back against the rough stone floor of the cave, breathing heavily.

"Lucas?"

"Mmm." He was quiet for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. "The next time Jack asks me how to get your attention, I'm telling him to throw himself on a grenade."

"I've been telling him to do that for years," she replied evenly. "He hasn't taken the hint yet."

There was a soft scratching sound, pebbles rubbing against sand as someone took a tentative step across the terrain outside. Sophie grabbed for her sniper rifle, bringing it up to her shoulder as she drew her backup pistol and placed it in Lucas's hand.

"Shoot them, not me," she hissed by way of instruction, dropping into a crouch and inching toward the entrance to the cave. He thought about pointing out that he could barely even lift the gun, let alone control who he shot with it if he actually managed to pull the trigger. He was saved from the admission and a potentially messy death by the scratching sound, which took on a distinctive pattern. Morse code, he realized eventually. He was too hazy to follow it, but after a few tense moments Sophie rose from her crouch and moved warily to the entrance of the cave, rifle still at the ready.

The appearance of Shaw and Wallace was an overwhelming relief for Sutton. Shaw moved immediately to tend to Lucas, and she blessed the corpsman's presence silently before turning to Wallace.

"What the hell took you so long?"

Wallace looked a little taken aback by the question. "You disappeared, ma'am. After you took your shots and the targets dropped, there was an explosion; by the time we got to the ridge, you were gone. This wasn't part of the exit strategy in the mission profile, so we had to track you through the desert. We also had to contend with the bodyguards that the arms dealer brought."

"I know that, Petty Officer." Her tone was withering, the omission of the 'chief' in his rank an intentional slight. "At the risk of repeating myself, what the _hell_ took you so long?"

Wallace flushed. From his vantage point on the floor, while Shaw was busy inspecting the wound on the side of his head, Lucas watched the confrontation with a wry twist of his lips. Whatever might have passed between the two of them a moment ago, Sophie was back to her usual self again.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: This one is definitely T rated; not too explicit, but probably not appropriate for little kiddies.

* * *

020. When he woke up the sky above was dim, not lighter but darker than when they had breakfasted.

* * *

The ISD Medbay was, in Lucas's opinion, the absolute worst place to spend two straight weeks.

Well, maybe not the absolute worst. From what he remembered about the cave in the desert where Sophie had dragged him after the grenade exploded, it might give this place a run for its money. Still, after four days of staring at the ceiling, he was officially bored out of his mind. The doctors had refused to give him access to anything work-related until he passed a psych eval, and then forbidden him to take the stupid psych eval until the ringing in his ears went away and he could sit up for more than fifteen seconds without being overcome by a wave of dizziness. Which was ridiculous, since he didn't need to be able to hear or to sit up in order to start catching up on the giant pile of programming and hacking work that was doubtless awaiting him. They'd put the ETA of his recovery at two weeks, but he was sure that he would go stark raving mad before that if he ended up stuck here the whole time.

At least they were allowing him visitors now, so he had something to occupy his time other than the doctors poking at his head or his leg and the aforementioned staring at the ceiling. All of Zeta Team had stopped by over the past 24 hours, and so had Jack Pearson. Sophie, who hadn't seemed to care that he hadn't been allowed to have visitors in the first place, continued to pop in whenever she had a few spare minutes. She'd just left a little while ago, after bringing him a quick breakfast better than the bland food that was all they served in here and reviewing a couple of tech issues with him. It was probably mercy work - certainly Jack could have taken care of all of the problems in half the time it took him to explain to Sophie how to go about doing it herself - but he wasn't going to complain, since it broke up the monotony.

So did sleeping, and sleep was the only real guarantee that he would be able to escape the headaches. Since there wasn't anyone there to hear him complain that all he did was sleep, he skipped the protest and let his eyes slide shut, the relative bliss of unconsciousness taking over quickly.

When he woke up the sky above was dim, not lighter but darker than when they had breakfasted. Either he'd slept through the entire day or it was going to rain. His headache had receded to a tolerable level, and Sophie was standing in the doorway, dressed in street clothes rather than her uniform.

"Come in if you're coming," he advised her. "Before they change their minds about my visiting privileges and evict you."

"I'd like to see them try," she replied, but stepped into the room and let the door swing shut behind her. She was carrying a small duffel bag with the UEO logo on it. He watched with interest as she pulled two round metal pieces out of it and stuck them to the steel door and its frame respectively, flipping the switches to activate them. It was a door-locking mechanism of Pearson's design, brilliant in its simplicity, that used strong magnetic forces to hold a door to its frame. It wasn't likely to hold up against a battering ram, but he couldn't imagine the doctors allowing anyone into Medbay with a battering ram when Sophie had barely managed to sneak him a couple of pancakes that morning.

"Surveillance?" he asked, glancing up at the camera in the corner of the room, and she graced him with a small smile.

"Off," she replied. "But just in case?" She held up a little metal box, thumbing its switch into the on position. That was an invention of his own, a signal scrambler that would replace the feed of any audio or video bug within a preset radius with static and white noise.

"My work. I'm flattered."

"How are you feeling?" she asked without preamble, and he blinked at the sudden change in subject. It was less of a polite inquiry and more of a demand for information.

"The ringing in my ears comes and goes. The headache doesn't go anywhere, but it's gotten to a point where I can ignore it most of the time. My leg's sore, but it's just a flesh wound."

"None of it is incapacitating? You're not in pain now?"

He shrugged. "It's nothing to write home about. The only thing keeping me in bed is the vertigo. I'd sit up and prove that the dizziness hasn't improved, but I'd end up unconscious, and I don't want to miss out on whatever gossip is so juicy that you brought in all this high-tech equipment to keep the med techs from overhearing it."

"I'm not spreading gossip, I'm preventing it."

"Well, that's disappointing."

"I sincerely doubt that," she replied, and pulled her sweater off over her head. He goggled at her as she tossed the sweater negligently onto the nearest chair and then sent her shirt over to keep it company.

"Uh, Sophie?" he asked warily as she kicked off her heels and started to unbutton her jeans. "This, uh - you realize you're taking off your clothes?"

"I realize," she agreed, her jeans joining the rest of her clothing in a heap. The sight of her in a lacy green bra and matching panties was enough to drive all of the blood in his body southward, and he noted distantly that it had the happy side effect of cutting the strength of his headache down to practically zero.

"So you, uh - you came by to, uh -"

"To seduce you," she finished smoothly, not seeming to take notice of his adolescent stammering in the face of her near-nakedness. "I trust that's not going to be a problem."

"Uh, no." He needed to pull it together, he realized. He blamed his momentary shock on the blitzkrieg attack style she'd chosen; she hadn't given him so much as a hint of her intentions at breakfast. "No problems here. Except that I can't sit up or move my head more than a couple of inches to either side."

She leaned down and kissed him, her tongue teasing his as her breasts pressed against his chest.

"Then for once in your life, I guess you're going to have to let someone else do all the work."

He tried. Certainly Sophie's clever hands against his skin were a welcome distraction, and her kisses drove all rational thought from his mind for what seemed like an eternity. When things got to a certain point, though, his uneasiness outweighed his pleasure, and he sighed as he realized that he had to call this off.

"Mmph - wait. Sophie -"

She pressed a tender kiss to his shoulder before tilting her head up to look at him, her face framed by loose tendrils of blonde hair that tickled his arm. He yearned to tangle his fingers in her hair, to pull her down for another passionate kiss and never let her go.

"What's wrong? Is the headache back?"

"No. I -" He stopped, embarrassed. "I don't know. I'm not sure I can, um…"

She sat back on her heels, still straddling him on the diagnostic bed, and he took a moment to be grateful for her meticulous attention to security details. It wouldn't do either of them any good to have one of the med techs wander in right about now.

"Hey, no problem," she said, her voice far gentler than he was accustomed to hearing it. "We can put it off until you're feeling better. I wasn't trying to rush you. I'll just, you know," she added, gesturing to the clothes abandoned in the chair by the bed. She would have gotten up to get them, but she was hindered by Lucas's hands, which tightened unexpectedly on her waist to hold her in place.

"Lucas." There was humor in her tone now. "I can't leave and let you get some rest if you don't let go of me first."

"I don't want you to leave."

"No?"

"No."

Her forehead furrowed a little, the way it did when she was thinking over a complex mission plan, and he had to resist the urge to throw caution to the wind and pull her in for another kiss.

"Would you rather just watch a vid or something? I can see what's on file here," she started to offer, but trailed off as he shook his head. "All right. You're going to have to give me a hint here, Wolenczak."

"I'm not sure I can," he replied slowly. "It's - it's personal, and you probably won't understand."

Her eyes widened incrementally. "This isn't your, ah, debut performance, is it?"

"What? N-no," he stammered, and for the first time was relieved rather than embarrassed about the night he'd spent with Juliana on the first anniversary of the disappearance of the _seaQuest_. That night had been largely a disaster, and as far as he knew Juliana still hated him, but it did mean that he could honestly say that this wasn't his first time. "God. No, it isn't."

Sophie braced her elbow next to his head, propping her chin on her hand and looking down at him with an indulgent smile tugging at her lips. "Is it the surroundings? Are you one of those guys who prefers satin sheets and rose petals? Because that could be arranged."

"I just…" He took a deep breath, exhaled sharply. "I just have to know that this isn't all about the mission, or me being injured, or our deal about the partnership. I want there to be something…else."

He couldn't say "I want you to care about me." He'd never said it to anyone, never sacrificed that last bit of his pride; not even in the darkest times of his life. From her expression, though, he guessed she might have heard the words beneath what he _had_ been able to say. Sophie was perceptive, and she certainly understood the sacrifices that could and could not be made when it came to pride.

She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, her thumb stroking the line of his jaw.

"The mission and the injury, our agreement…" Her gaze met his and held it for a long moment. "They're convenient excuses."

He wasn't nearly as perceptive as she was, but the message came through loud and clear regardless.

"Oh. Okay. Good." He reached up, brushing his fingertips against her cheek, and finally allowed himself to slide his fingers into her hair, tangling her loose curls around his hand. Her hair was as soft as it looked, he realized, and smiled involuntarily. "Feel free to resume the pursuit of your initial objective, then."

He surprised a laugh out of her with that, and he savored the sound as she leaned in to kiss him again.

* * *

She left him drowsing, a contented smile lingering on his face. When Demarin stopped by for a visit, he commented on the remarkable change in the lieutenant's mood from earlier that day.

As it turned out, Wolenczak informed him, spending a little down time in Medbay wasn't as bad as people made it out to be.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: No big emotional revelations in this chapter. But in the next one…

* * *

005. There was something in this tree that I have never seen before.

* * *

This was the first job he'd done for ISD where there was no need for his computer skills. He was meeting a couple of Sophie's informants for the first time, two men who were double agents in the Macronesian military and had information to pass along regarding plans for an attack on a UEO base. His instructions from Sophie had been explicit: sit in a chair, drink a beer, and look menacing. Which was what he was doing now, watching as Sophie chatted with the two men as though they were just old friends who'd happened to show up at this run-down little bar just outside of Mazatlan.

No names, Sophie had warned him before they'd arrived. She knew the informants' names, of course, and he was relatively sure that they knew hers, but he was an unknown quantity and she wanted him to stay that way. She introduced them to him as Pike and Smith, although he was sure those weren't their real names, and only referred to him as 'a friend'. For their part, both informants called Sophie 'Blondie', which was strikingly uninventive.

Pike seemed to be the chatty one, while Smith tended to stay silent unless someone directly addressed him. Pike was currently talking about some vid program Lucas had never seen, although Sophie clearly watched it, since she was debating the likelihood of some plot point with enthusiasm. When that topic of conversation was exhausted, Pike looked from Lucas to Sophie and back, shaking his head.

"You two make an interesting pair."

"Oh?" Sophie asked, leaning back in her chair. Lucas said nothing, sticking to the safer route of looking intimidating and staying silent. At least he'd had some practice at looking intimidating over the past few months.

"Yeah." Pike inclined his beer bottle in Sophie's direction. "You look harmless, but you're one of the most dangerous people I've ever met."

"That's sweet, Pike." Sophie's lips drew back in an expression that wasn't quite a smile. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

"Flattery might keep him alive," Smith retorted, and Lucas was surprised when Sophie laughed right along with the men. He kept his own poker face firmly in place, determined to follow the guidelines Sophie had set out for him.

"Your friend, on the other hand…" Pike raised his bottle in Lucas's direction, then took a long swig of his beer. "He looks as dangerous as you don't, with the scar and that steely-eyed glare. No offense, man."

The scar in question was the remnant of the shrapnel he'd taken from the frag grenade, an angry red pair of jagged lines that framed his left eye and bisected his temple before disappearing into his hair. Lucas shrugged, since he couldn't take offense; Pike was right about the scar looking dangerous, and the glare was something he'd been working on for a while. It was nice to know it had the intended effect.

Sophie really did smile this time, a knowing Mona Lisa expression that Lucas couldn't imagine would do anything to reassure her informants. "The uninitiated have to take one of us seriously," she pointed out. "They don't usually listen to me until I've shot one of them."

They bandied back and forth for a few more minutes, and under cover of a toast to 'new friends', Sophie clinked her glass against Smith's and Lucas saw Smith slip something small into her hand. That was probably the intel handoff they'd come for; it was about the right size to be a microdisc. Sophie didn't show any signs of being ready to call it a night, though, and instead launched into a story about one of Zeta Team's recent mishaps.

"So we're out in the woods, in a training exercise, and we run across this tree, right? Only there was something in this tree that I have never seen before," she began. He tuned out the rest of the story in favor of watching the two informants more closely. He'd been there on that training exercise, and he knew the story ended with the death of a singularly hapless squirrel and several members of Zeta Team inadvertently exposing themselves to large quantities of poison oak. It hadn't been that funny at the time, but Sophie was a great storyteller, and she had the two men in hysterics before she was finished.

The meeting wound down then, just as though they'd been a few colleagues catching up on old times who had to head back out to the real world. Smith nodded to Lucas and Sophie as they all stood to leave, and Pike waved.

"See you around, Blondie. Steel."

They were gone before Lucas could react to being tagged 'Steel'. It was from Pike's impression of his well-rehearsed glare, he assumed. Given their unimaginative nickname for Sophie, he supposed he should be grateful they hadn't decided to call him 'Scarface'.

Sophie dropped enough cash on the table to settle the bill. As they walked out into the moonless night, he shared the thought with her, earning him a raised eyebrow from his partner.

"If you launch into an Al Pacino impression," she began to threaten, and he shook his head, amused.

"I can't believe you even know who he is." The only reason Lucas himself knew was thanks to a 'classic movie marathon' that Ben Krieg had put on during the _seaQuest_'s first tour.

Sophie looked grave for a moment, and then, to his shock and delight, she commenced with the best Pacino impression he'd ever seen, complete with thick accent and over-the-top gesticulation.

"I never fucked anybody over in my life who didn't have it coming to them. You got that? All I have in this world is my balls and my word and I don't break them for no one. Do you understand?"

She revered to her formerly reserved expression as Lucas applauded, grinning from ear to ear.

"That was beautiful. Seriously, I had no idea you could do that! If Ben were here, he would've died on the spot!"

"Ah, Ben." Sophie tucked her hands back into her coat pockets; the weather was turning colder, and even down here in the tropics there was a distinct chill in the air. "Your intrepid morale officer."

Lucas had told her bits and pieces about the _seaQuest _crew, and she remembered them so accurately after the fact that he almost suspected she was keeping some sort of log. The boat's disappearance was one of the great mysteries of the UEO, however, so he wouldn't have been surprised if Sophie had at one point been assigned to look into it. Maybe he was only telling her things she already knew, giving her firsthand accounts of people whose service records she'd already studied. He supposed it didn't really matter either way.

"Ben was the one who showed me that movie the first time. I remember, this one night, he and I and Tim and Miguel were all sitting around, and…"

Lucas drifted into reminiscence, recounting the entirety of that night for a surprisingly attentive Sophie, who at least seemed to be paying attention and asked questions in all the right places. They passed the rest of the walk back to the hotel that way, and he barely noticed the multiple detours they took as force of habit to lose any tails they might have picked up after their meeting. Once they'd made it back to the hotel without incident, Lucas ordered room service for the two of them and Sophie queued up _Scarface_ to the vidscreen in the room, and they spend the rest of the evening mimicking Al Pacino and laughing at themselves.

It was, on the whole, not a bad way to spend a Friday night.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Definite T rating for sensitive subject matter and coarse language. Lucas and Juliana's falling out was inspired by 'Skeleton Key', by Margot & the Nuclear So and So's. Sophie's part was written while listening to Nick Cave's 'People Ain't No Good' on repeat, which I highly recommend if you're feeling morose.

* * *

039. The fool's hope has failed.

* * *

After working a long double shift of gathering intel for Zeta Team's latest mission, Lucas practically stumbled up the stairs to his apartment, fixated on making it to his nice warm bed before he collapsed from exhaustion. He wasn't sure if Sophie had left ISD yet. She'd said she was right behind him, but half of the time she ended up working another few hours before crashing in one of the on-site rooms. If he hadn't been so tired himself, he might have hung around and dragged her out with him to make sure that she got some sleep; to his surprise and pleasure, they were sleeping together now more often than not. Despite that, Sophie was still mostly an enigma to him, giving him few opportunities to glimpse anything about who she was beneath her cold exterior. He wondered sometimes if she knew or cared that he was falling in love with her.

After the day he'd had, however, he was willing to leave her to her own devices and hope that prudence won out over hard-headedness. Regardless of the hours they'd just worked, they had a mission to launch in the morning. They weren't deploying with the Zetas, but that just meant that Sophie would be twice as tense, attached to her vidcomset until the objective was achieved and her team was safely home.

He didn't recognize the woman sitting on his doorstep, and he nearly drew his gun in blind self-defense before his brain caught up with his instincts and he remembered who she was.

"Juliana?"

* * *

He offered her a seat, but she said she wanted to stand, so he stood too. They stared at each other for several minutes, Lucas baffled as to what she was doing there after all this time. If she had an agenda, she was keeping it to herself.

"It's been a long time," he ventured finally, and she nodded.

"I know. We didn't exactly part on…amiable terms."

_What the hell are you doing here_, he wanted to ask, but he suspected that was just his fatigue combined with prolonged exposure to Sophie's habit of asking blunt questions.

"I haven't heard from you in years," he said instead, and she nodded again.

"I sent you that letter. I wasn't sure if you'd even read it, but -"

"'The fool's hope has failed.'" He quoted the words verbatim from her letter, still imprinted on his mind all these years later. "'All I wanted was to love you. I didn't realize you weren't capable of love.' Yeah, I read it."

"I was cruel." Juliana's eyes filled with tears, glistening in the low light, and Lucas shook his head.

"So was I. Everything you wrote, I deserved."

"Yeah, you did."

Juliana's abrupt change of attitude startled him, but she pressed on before he could adjust.

"I don't want to care about you, Lucas. I don't even know why I came here tonight. I don't want anything to do with you. I just - I can't get you out of my head. All these years, and I still can't." Juliana was crying now, and looked like she couldn't decide whether to collapse on the floor in tears or strangle him with her bare hands. "I hate you! I wish you were dead! I wish you'd disappeared with the _seaQuest_!"

In the silence that followed her shouted declaration, the front door swung open. He was somehow unsurprised to find Sophie standing in the doorway. Judging from her stance, she'd heard at least part of Juliana's tantrum and was concealing a gun behind her back in case their argument turned out to be more than just shouting.

Juliana turned to look at Sophie and Lucas caught his partner's eye, giving a firm shake of his head. He didn't even want to contemplate how messy this would get if Sophie shot Juliana.

"Who is she, Lucas?" Juliana's voice was shrill. "Is she your new girlfriend? Do you force her into bed with you the way you forced me? _Do _you?"

Lucas, reeling from the accusation, was an instant too slow to stop his partner. Before he had recovered enough to intervene, Juliana was jacked up against the wall, Sophie's forearm pressed across her throat and her pistol pressed to the smaller woman's temple.

"If you ever come back here, or speak to him again, or breathe a word of this to anyone, I will kill you." Sophie's gaze held Juliana's, her green eyes cold and hard as glittering emeralds. "That is not a threat. That is a promise. Do you understand me?"

Juliana choked, Sophie's arm cutting off her oxygen supply, and nodded frantically. Sophie dropped her and Juliana whimpered, her hands moving automatically to protect her throat.

"Good. Get out."

When Juliana started to hesitate, Sophie narrowed her eyes and Juliana ran for the door. In her haste, she left it standing wide open. Sophie shut and locked the door before turning to Lucas, who was still in shock over the entire encounter.

"Sit."

Sophie's command was succinct and firm. He sat, collapsing into the nearest chair as Sophie disappeared into the kitchen. By the time she returned with a bottle of Jameson and two glasses, he'd managed to find his voice again.

"I didn't -" His voice caught, and he nearly choked on the words. "I didn't force her. I swear she never told me to stop. I would never have -"

Sophie's hand on his stopped his staggering disclaimer. He looked at her, desperation in his eyes, and she held up the glass of whiskey she'd poured for him.

"Drink it, then tell me," she instructed in the same sort of tone she used when someone on the team was injured: patient insistence with a hint of the don't-cross-me-or-I'll-bury-you attitude she was famous for. He considered the glass for a long moment, then drank half of it in one swallow, his eyes watering at the fire it left in the back of his throat.

"That night…it was the anniversary of the disappearance of the _seaQuest_. I'd planned on spending it alone in my apartment, but then Juliana showed up. We'd dated, before, but we hadn't talked much since _seaQuest _disappeared. We had a few drinks, and she offered to spend the night. It was her idea for us to - you know. It started out fine, but then…"

He shook his head, and Sophie gestured for him to take another drink. He drained the glass dry.

"I didn't pay any attention to what she wanted from me." Lucas stared into the empty glass, miserable and guilt-ridden. "I knew she'd never - I knew it was her first time. It was mine, too, but I just - I didn't care. I couldn't love her the way she wanted me to. I used her, and I know it was wrong, but I swear to you, Sophie, she never said no. She never asked me to stop. She just let me -" He cut himself off, the words sticking in his throat. Sophie offered him the bottle of whiskey, but he shook his head, taking a deep breath. "When we were finished, I - I asked her to leave. She got upset and started crying, and I couldn't -"

"You didn't know what you needed and she didn't know how to give it to you, and it blew up in your face."

Lucas looked startled by her apt summary. She was sure that he'd expected she wouldn't be able to understand. Lucas was one of those people who held himself to a higher standard than he did the rest of the world, and so he felt that any mistake he made was far worse than anything anyone else could possibly do. People like Lucas had self-flagellation down to an art form, and from the look of things, he was settling in for a good long bout of it.

It was probably heartless of her, but Sophie wasn't interested in spending the rest of the night coddling him or watching him sulk. That sort of thing was outside of her emotional comfort zone. She could try to put him in a better mood using psychic manipulation, but it wasn't guaranteed to work, it would leave her with a headache, and if he caught her at it he would throw a fit. The other obvious option was to open up to him, to share a story about something awful she'd done to make him feel less alone. That wouldn't be hard - she'd done enough awful things over the course of her life to make what he'd done seem insignificant - but if it was going to work, it would also have to be something that she regretted. That was a problem, since she so rarely regretted any of the unpleasant things she did. The only story likely to reach him was one she hated to tell.

Sophie sighed, knowing there was no way around it.

"Listen carefully, Wolenczak, because I'm only telling this particular story once."

Lucas made a noncommittal noise. She refilled her own whiskey glass, taking a generous swallow before starting to tell the tale of one of the few times she'd ever regretted a kill.

"Zeta Team has been my primary team since I became a mission coordinator. Jack was my first IC; he was assigned to work with me during my probationary period, back when I first joined ISD. There was a chief petty officer on the team, Pete Morgan, who was one of the snipers. We had a lot in common, became friendly off the clock. He was the only person at ISD who seemed to really get me. Then I found out he'd been selling military secrets under the table to the highest bidder."

Lucas had stopped toying with his glass and was watching her. She took the opportunity to pluck his glass from his hand and refill it, and to her satisfaction he reclaimed the full glass and sipped at the liquor inside without prompting. If she could get him drunk enough that most of the night ended up a little blurry, that was all to the good.

"As his team leader, the responsibility fell to me to interrogate him. I needed to find out who he'd sold the secrets to, how he'd gotten in contact with them, and exactly what information had gotten out so that we could try to undo the damage." She took another swallow of her own drink. She wouldn't object to this night becoming a little blurry in her memory, either.

"You tortured him."

It wasn't a question, so she didn't bother to answer it.

"I'm a good soldier. I did my job, got all of the answers out of him. When I was finished and the information he gave me checked out as true, I handled his execution."

She'd looked him straight in the eye and put two bullets in his head. She could still remember the sight of Pete's blood and brain matter splattered against the back wall of the interrogation room, and the expression on his face when she'd pulled the trigger. That was one of those things that never blurred, no matter how much she drank.

"I always had a thing about traitors. After what happened to my father, I could've killed anyone who betrayed ISD and not even blinked. But Pete -"

Somewhat to her surprise, she realized her eyes were burning with unshed tears. She pushed them back with the iron will born of years of training and tossed back the rest of her whiskey.

"Pete was my friend. I hadn't thought about the consequences of that, of someone I cared about turning on me. It screwed me up for a while. I couldn't sleep for almost a week. Finally I gave in, took a few of the sleeping pills one of the docs had given me. They didn't work, so I took a few more. And then a few more."

This part of the story _was _blurry, and she was grateful for it. She didn't like to think about the way things might have gone if Pearson hadn't been such a nosy, interfering bastard.

"Jack came over to see how I was doing. When I didn't answer the door, he kicked it in. He found me unconscious, took me to Medbay. I don't remember any of it. The docs said that if he'd been a few hours slower, I'd be dead. ISD hushed the whole thing up - well, of course they did. That's what we do. I don't think anyone on the team even realized what happened. In the years since then, all of the Zeta Team members have been replaced except for Jovasti. He was a PO second class back then. He might know; if he does, he's never said anything about it."

Lucas was staring at her as though he'd never seen her before. She cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the sheer amount of emotion in the room. For all that she found emotional manipulation handy as an interrogator, she hated having to express deep emotions of her own. It gave people access to her on a level that was far too personal. Even Wolenczak, who was the closest she'd come to loving someone in years, didn't need to have the kind of handhold into her psyche that things like this story would give him. The closer people got, the easier it would be for them to destroy her.

Everyone was a potential turncoat, every person in her life a possible source of betrayal. Just because Wolenczak didn't seem like the type who would turn on her didn't mean he never would. She'd learned the hard way that everyone had a price.

"The point is, Wolenczak, everybody fucks up. Everybody pays for their fuckups. You can't let your mistakes define who you are."

"I..." Lucas seemed momentarily at a loss for words. "I…need another drink."

She pushed her own glass forward, and he refilled both of them without comment.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: This one is set a little farther into the future than the last few chapters. I'm trying to move things along, since eventually we'll hit the ten year mark and the _seaQuest _will return…

* * *

035. He felt as if the whole dark world was turning upside down.

* * *

Lucas tossed his coat over the back of one of the dining room chairs, sniffing appreciatively at the delicious smell coming from the kitchen.

"Sophie?"

She stuck her head out from around the corner, giving him a bright smile. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Wolenczak."

He grinned and loosened the collar of his uniform. "It's nice to drop the 'j.g.'," he admitted. "Now you don't outrank me anymore."

"Don't worry; I still outrank you by commission date. And as far as skill is concerned?" She made a gun with her thumb and index finger, blowing on the tip of her finger as though she'd just fired a bullet. "You're always going to be outclassed."

"Okay, now my feelings are hurt." His amused expression gave lie to his mock-irritated protest, and he slid his arms around her from behind as he walked into the kitchen, pulling her back to rest against his chest.

"Hmm," she sighed contentedly, relaxing against him. It had been a rough couple of weeks for both of them at work, leading up to the promotion he'd received today, and for once Sophie seemed to be deriving as much comfort from their off duty relationship as he was. "I'll have to find a way to make it up to you."

"Start with dinner," he advised. "What is this, anyway? Did you actually cook?"

"You're kidding, right? It's takeout from that Italian place down the street. I'm just heating it up."

He kissed the top of her head. "You heat up dinner better than anybody else in the world," he told her, and she laughed.

"You only say that because if it had been up to you, you would've gone the lazy route and not bothered to heat it up at all."

"I resemble that remark."

She tilted her head back to meet his gaze and they shared a smile before she ducked out of his embrace.

"I'm almost finished. Why don't you go kick off your shoes and relax like a big useless lump, or whatever else men do while their women are busy in the kitchen."

"My woman," he repeated, dropping one last peck on her cheek before disappearing back into the dining room. "I like the sound of that."

"Don't push it," she called, her voice following him into the next room, and he laughed softly to himself as he set out the placemats and lit the tapers that Sophie kept on her dining room table. She claimed that they were for ambience, but he was sure the heavy crystal candlesticks were just another of the carefully disguised weapons scattered around her apartment in case of an enemy invasion. He would have found it concerning if he hadn't chosen the mirror hanging in his living room specifically for its weight and sturdy metal frame, just in case he ever had to take it off the wall and hit someone with it. That was the sort of thing that occurred to people who spent enough time working for ISD.

In the year and a half since he'd joined ISD, his life had taken a turn for the better. Despite the situation he'd found himself in - and who would ever have believed that Lucas Wolenczak, geeky teen genius, would end up becoming involved in military covert ops? Or that he'd turn out to have an aptitude for it? - he found himself actually starting to enjoy life again. Things that had interested him before the disappearance of the _seaQuest_ started to hold appeal again. He'd played one of his old 'dungeon master' games on the internex the other day for the first time in ages. He'd even started catching up on some marine science journals, not for work but just because he wanted to.

And when Sophie smiled at him, the way she was smiling now, he felt as if the whole dark world was turning upside down.

"Be careful about getting lost in thought," she advised him, setting a plate down in front of him and putting hers at the place next to his. "You might forget the way back."

"Wouldn't be the first time," he agreed. He accepted the glass of water she handed him but raised his eyebrows when she set out her decanter and two highball glasses in addition.

"Problem, Wolenczak?"

"You drink more than anyone else I know," he told her, and she shrugged.

"If you can do this job for as long as I have and not start abusing some substance, then you can give me grief about my relationship with Jameson," she declared, holding up the decanter of whiskey for emphasis. "When it starts interfering with my work, I'll start accepting criticism on the subject. Until then, you'll be doing yourself a favor by keeping your mouth shut."

"Jack's been doing this even longer than you have," Lucas pointed out, keeping his mouth shut not ever having been a particular skill of his. "He doesn't drink."

"Nope," she replied with a snicker. "His substance of choice is blondes. He goes through them faster than I can get through a bottle of liquor."

Lucas said nothing. He knew about Jack's unrequited feelings for Sophie, of course; the other man wasn't any good at hiding them. If Jack was addicted to blondes, it was probably because he was working through some issues where Sophie was concerned.

"Klein?" he guessed instead, and she raised her glass in response.

"Alcohol. He prefers gin, though."

"Jenner?"

"Inveterate gambler."

"Al-hourin?"

"He's a klepto."

Lucas gaped at her. "You're kidding."

"Nope." She popped a piece of bread into her mouth, smirking at Lucas's obvious shock. "He has sticky fingers. But he's good at it, so he doesn't get caught, and his wife has a taste for expensive jewelry, so it all works out."

"Huh." He processed that for a moment, taking a bite of his lasagna while he thought. "All right, then, what am I going to end up addicted to, when I'm old and jaded like the rest of you?"

"Your toys."

He rolled his eyes. "They aren't _toys_, Sophie. They're important pieces of equipment that have saved the team in several dangerous situations -"

"See?" She interrupted him with a wave of her fork. "You're already obsessed. It's only a matter of time until you're turning to your circuit boards and miniature soldering iron for comfort in your times of need."

"Why would I turn to them when I have you?"

He caught and held her gaze, and eventually Sophie gave a mirthless laugh.

"Honestly, Wolenczak, if you're looking for comfort, you're probably better off with the soldering iron."

He reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. "You don't give yourself enough credit," he told her, and she shook her head.

"Comfort just isn't my department, Lucas. Now, if you were looking for torture, or sabotage, or a quiet assassination…"

Lucas brought her hand to his lips, kissing it before letting go.

"You'll be the first one I call," he promised, and meant it.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Just a sad little chapter in honor of the season.

* * *

008. Do not touch the water!

* * *

"Do not touch the water! Peter James McKinsey, I _swear_, if you don't get over here _right now_…"

The little boy, clad in a formal tux complete with tiny bowtie, jumped off the rim of the fountain and darted back over to where his mother stood, cutting through the crowd of adults. Lucas watched him, amused, as he nearly tripped a heavyset gentleman whose arms were laden with shopping bags and dodged around a teenage couple making out in the middle of the mall.

The woman grabbed the boy by the hand and dragged him off toward the portrait store, which explained why he'd been wearing the little tuxedo and why his mother had been so aggravated that he was playing with the fountain. He imagined that getting the child into the tux had been no small feat, and she probably would have been furious if she'd had to call off their holiday portrait appointment because he ended up taking a swim in the fountain.

The holidays were supposed to put people in a generous mood, to encourage good will toward men and all of that, but it seemed to Lucas that people were never more stressed than during the weeks leading up to Christmas. Part of that stress was finding the perfect gifts for their loved ones, he knew. He'd been observing that all afternoon: people searching frantically through the offerings at the mall, hoping to find that one special present.

Just observing, of course, since he didn't have that problem. Most of the people he'd loved were long gone. Sophie had informed him tartly that if he felt the need to buy her a gift, there was a tactical supply store in town that carried the new XE-9 Walther pistols that had just come on the market. There was already one of those tucked under the little tree in his foyer, brightly wrapped and awaiting her inspection come Christmas morning. Zeta Team apparently did a gift exchange, but only among the enlisted members of the team, to avoid the appearance of impropriety that might come with including their officers. He was friendly with Jack Pearson and several other ISD officers, but those weren't friendships of the gift-giving variety.

No, he'd only purchased one gift at the mall today, and its intended recipient would probably never open it.

He checked his watch, startled to see how late it had gotten. He needed to head home and wrap the gift before Sophie decided to 'casually drop by' with a giant stack of intelligence reports to be sifted through. She had a habit of doing that, and while he was usually happy to see her, he wanted to get this taken care of before she was around to ask questions he didn't want to answer.

* * *

Lucas opened the door to the closet in his bedroom, reaching down to the bottom in the very back of the closet and pulling out a modestly-sized metal footlocker. It was locked, of course. He locked everything these days. The contents of the box were the only evidence of his personal holiday tradition, painstakingly amassed over the past eight Christmases.

As he set the box down in the middle of the room, it occurred to him once again that Sophie probably wouldn't approve of this particular venture. Sophie didn't know, however, and Lucas had no intention of telling her. Some things were better left alone.

From inside the footlocker he pulled out a square of sparkly wrapping paper and a roll of scotch tape, both of which had been tucked in along the side for easy retrieval. He grabbed the closest pair of scissors and got to work wrapping his gift.

It was a necklace, the pendant a graceful dolphin in profile. It was made of platinum, or so the saleswoman had told him, and the dolphin's eye was a sparkling sapphire. It had been prohibitively expensive, but it reminded him of her, and what else did he have to spend his money on, anyway?

The jewelry box was square and simple to wrap, and he tied a little red ribbon around it before sticking the tag onto the box. Using his best handwriting and a green felt-tip pen, he wrote _Katie_ on the tag, then leaned back to admire his handiwork.

"Into the box you go," he told the gift, which didn't offer any protest in response. He set it down inside the footlocker, on top of the carefully wrapped set of classic _Girls Gone Wild_ discs he'd bought for Ben five years ago and next to the little velvet box containing the antique Spanish doubloon he'd found for Bridger last year.

He didn't only shop for one _seaQuest _crew member each year, and in fact Katie had several other gifts toward the bottom of the pile. He merely bought the things that reminded him of his lost friends, the 'perfect gifts' he would have been thrilled to find for them back when they were still around to receive them. Some years he bought for all of them, and some years he only found one or two worthy presents. It had taken him several years to pick out anything at all for Ford, and he still wasn't sure he'd nailed it with the shoe-polishing kit or the 1913 print of the _Ballets Russes_ he'd found.

_Maybe I should get him one of those XE-9 pistols_, Lucas thought, initially in jest, but the more he contemplated it, the more he liked the idea. Ford wasn't a gun nut like Sophie, but Lucas recalled him having an appreciation for a well-designed weapon, and the XE-9 was already being hailed as the best semi-automatic of the decade.

The com unit in the living room trilled, and without warning he was jarred back into the real world. Putting the lock back onto the box was the work of seconds. Before the com hit the third ring, all of the evidence of his holiday endeavor was safely tucked away in the closet and he was headed into the living room to answer the call, leaving his nostalgia behind for now.

Besides, the gun shop was open late on the weekend. He could always swing by later and pick up Ford's present.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: This one is short and depressing.

* * *

025. But there is no other way out that I can see or think of.

* * *

Sophie lay on the little cot in the cell, her face flushed and feverish to the touch. Lucas knelt beside her, his hand smoothing her hair back, his attention divided between his partner and the hallway outside their cell. The guard was standing at the end of the hall, looking bored. The cell itself was state of the art, far too complex for Sophie's cleverly disguised lockpicks to make any progress on the lock. If Lucas had a laptop, a connection cord, and a couple of hours to work uninterrupted, he might've been able to break them out.

He didn't have a laptop or a connection cord, and Sophie didn't have a couple of hours.

He slipped his free hand into hers, which was cold and trembling from the effects of the drugs they'd given her.

"Sophie?" he said gently, and her eyes fluttered open again, bright green irises clouded by the toxins working their way through her system. For a second, he thought she'd forgotten who he was, but then a tired smile tugged at her lips.

"Haven't you broken us…out of here…yet?"

He shook his head, glancing around the cell again. Four steel walls, reinforced concrete flooring, no access to the ceiling, and a guard down the hall.

"My plan so far is to be rescued in the nick of time," he informed her finally. "By a very large, heavily armed, and technologically advanced strike force."

She raised her eyebrows at him, her breath rattling in her chest when she spoke. "We don't…have one of…those."

"I know." Lucas stroked her hair, his touch tender. She didn't protest, which worried him as much as all of the rest of it put together. "But there is no other way out that I can see or think of."

They'd been running a three-pronged mission with Zeta Team, breaking into a Macronesian military outpost to steal information and weapons. The two parts involving the members of Zeta Team had gone off without a hitch, but when he and Sophie had attempted to retrieve the information, he'd set off a silent alarm in the system that had alerted the Macs to their location. He'd managed to get the information and send it via an encrypted system back to ISD headquarters, but they'd both been captured by the Macs.

The head of security on the base was a Commander Ivasson, a Macronesian Naval officer with a decided bent toward pharmaceuticals rather than physical torture. Lucas had been glad for that initially, since he hadn't really been looking forward to being beaten within an inch of his life, but now he regretted that Ivasson hadn't chosen the traditional route.

He and Sophie hadn't been wearing any identification, of course, but Ivasson had assumed correctly that they were UEO. His incorrect assumption had been that Lucas was the ranking officer. He could understand why the man would think that; the last few years had aged Lucas considerably and left him with several visible scars that were a silent testimony to his military experience. Sophie, by contrast, still looked exactly the same as she had the day they'd met, despite several injuries that should have left her with scars to rival his. He suspected she was in league with one of the Medbay surgeons, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask and she was hardly likely to tell him.

Ivasson had decided that the best way to get what he wanted from them - information, naturally, on who they were and what they'd been doing on the base - would be to drug and question Sophie. He hadn't expected her to already have a tolerance built up to everything he tried, and as a result he'd ended up giving her doses that far exceeded safe amounts. When even that had failed to get her to talk, he'd tossed her back into the cell with Lucas and invited him to watch her die from the overdose, then decide whether he wanted his own life to end the same way or if he would comply with Ivasson's questioning.

Lucas knew Sophie better than probably anyone else in the world. She could have held out against physical torture indefinitely; she had an incredible pain tolerance and was the most stubborn woman he'd ever met, worse even than Kristin Westphalen. There was nothing she could do about the drugs, however, and so he was stuck sitting beside her and holding her hand while her body started to shut down, overwhelmed by the toxic levels of medication she'd been given.

If only Zeta Team knew what had happened, they might have attempted a rescue and his request for a heavily armed strike force might have been granted. But the mission profile had called for radio silence after the second objective was completed, and they wouldn't even know anything had gone wrong until Lucas and Sophie failed to show up at the rendezvous point tomorrow morning. By then, Sophie would be dead, and Lucas…

He shook his head, his hand tightening on hers. Sophie had been the driving force keeping him going these past few years. If he lost her, what else mattered?

"The war," Sophie rasped, her voice so changed that he barely recognized it, and he realized he must have spoken the last part of his thought aloud. "The war…matters. You can still…stop them."

"Not without you." He was surprised to hear his own voice break, to feel wetness on his cheeks. It had been so long since the last time he'd cried, he'd thought he'd forgotten how. "Sophie, I-"

"Don't." She squeezed his hand sharply. "Don't…you dare…say it."

"I love you," he informed her over her feeble protest, finally voicing the words he'd held in for almost three years. "So there. I love you, and I said it, and there's nothing you can do about it."

She gave him a wan smile. "Nothing you can…do," she repeated, and he shook his head again, refusing to accept it. There had to be something he hadn't thought of, some way to get them out of this. There had to be a way to keep from losing Sophie the way he'd lost everyone else.

"If it…helps," she said, clearly struggling to find the strength to speak, "if I could have loved…anyone…"

"Shh," he soothed her, a lump forming in his throat as the color faded from her face. He eased onto the cot behind her, pulling her up against his chest to help her breathe. In the years since he'd joined ISD, he'd seen his fair share of death, and from his experience he knew that Sophie had minutes left at best. She could at least be as comfortable as he could make her in the end. He could do that much for her. "Shh. It's all right. Just breathe."

"I would've loved…you," she finished with a sigh, letting her head fall back against him. He kissed the crown of her head, tears streaming freely down his face as she relaxed in his embrace for the last time.

"I know," he said gently. "Go to sleep, Sophie. Just close your eyes - that's it, it's all right. I've got you."

She jerked in his arms without warning, her back arching sharply as she started to seize. Her systems were collapsing, neurons misfiring in her brain as the drugs overwhelmed it. He knew all of the science behind it, knew every pathway and chemical reaction the drugs were using to kill her, and still there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Lucas pressed his face against her hair and wept as she started to slip away.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing - you're my motivation to keep going!

* * *

047. Where are we? How did I get here?

* * *

Since Lucas had returned to ISD headquarters, he'd been out of the loop. From his seat in Medbay, next to the bed where Sophie lay motionless in a coma that seemed to have no intention of releasing her, he wasn't privy to the hushed conversations or the long discussions about what should be done with him. Several people argued that if he was no longer capable of doing the job they'd hired him for, he should be gotten rid of quickly and quietly. Others felt that the whole situation was ISD's fault, since the rescue Zeta Team had performed had come too late to save Sutton, and so they should give him as much leeway as he needed. She was his partner, after all.

He wasn't there when Jack Pearson intervened on his behalf with the admiral, convincing him that Lucas needed time more than anything. 'Let him sit with her a while,' he'd said, managing somehow to sound calm and reasonable when inside he was as much of a wreck as Wolenczak was. 'Either she'll wake up and we'll get them both back, or she won't, and then you can decide what to do with him. Just give him a little more time.'

So Lucas was left alone to sit with Sophie. After a few days, Zeta Team was returned to active duty status and reassigned to work with another pair of officers, since according to Medbay Sutton was as good as dead and Wolenczak had been deemed temporarily unfit for duty. Jack Pearson took over most of the intelligence-gathering work Lucas had done before his imprisonment.

They remained in Medbay, Sophie unknowing and Lucas uncaring, as the war went on without them.

* * *

Lucas sat with Sophie's hand in his, watching as she slept. He knew she wasn't really sleeping; she was unconscious, and it was entirely possible that she was never going to come out of the coma she was in. She was breathing on her own now, her pulse strong under his fingers, but all that promised was that her brainstem was intact. When he asked the doctors about whether she would ever regain consciousness, whether she'd suffered any permanent cortical damage from the drugs she'd been given or the amount of time she'd been without oxygen, they merely shrugged and told him that there was no way to know.

He preferred to tell himself that she was sleeping. Certainly she looked peaceful enough, long eyelashes resting against her cheeks as the sunlight drifted in through the window and cast a warm glow on her profile. Now that she'd stabilized and the doctors had unhooked most of the machines, he could almost pretend that they were in her apartment rather than in Medbay, and Sophie was just sleeping in after a long shift at work. He'd turn on the coffee maker and come in to wake her, and she'd smile up at him and entice him to join her in bed, just for a few minutes…

And then one of the doctors would come in, or there would be a noise out in the hallway, and he was pulled summarily out of his fantasy and back into the harsh reality of their situation. Zeta Team had somehow figured out that there was a problem and had broken into the Macronesian facility to rescue them. Lucas wasn't clear on the details of what had happened, hadn't cared to find out anything beyond whether there was still a chance for Sophie to survive. Jovasti had worked a miracle and kept her alive until they'd gotten back to ISD. Her heart had stopped twice during the initial frenzy to stabilize her, but the medbay doctors managed to bring her back both times. Eventually she'd started to improve, and one by one the machines and monitors had been removed, but she'd remained in the coma.

It had been almost three weeks since the rescue. Lucas wasn't an idiot, and he knew that Sophie's prognosis worsened with every day that she remained unconscious. The Medbay physicians didn't have much to say to him anymore. His questions never changed and neither did their answers. He assumed that there was only so much 'we'll see' and 'no one knows' that they could bear to tell him.

He spent a lot of time thinking about Sophie, about the things he wished he would have said to her while he'd had the chance. He kept his little A/V scrambler turned on in her room to keep anyone from overhearing while he told her still form all of the secrets and wishes and feelings he'd kept inside for all these years. He thought about the _seaQuest_, too, about the things he should've said to all of the other people he'd lost. Once in a while he thought about Kristin, about the falling out they'd had so many years ago and how he'd never taken the time to try and mend fences with her.

He didn't think much about the war. He'd lost everyone he loved once in a freak accident, had suffered and struggled and finally let himself start to love someone new, and now he was losing her too. The entire world could go to hell for all he cared.

He was thinking about Ben and Katie, wondering whether they might ever have gotten back together if things had been different, when Sophie's hand tightened on his. It startled him out of his reverie and he looked down at her, guarded. It might've been a muscle spasm, or a small seizure, or a figment of his imagination. It didn't mean that she was waking up -

"Mmm." She shifted a little on the diagnostic bed, her eyes still closed, squeezing his hand again. "Lucas?"

His heart leapt into his throat, and he had trouble forming the words.

"Sophie," he said, his voice catching slightly on her name. "Hey. Welcome back."

"Mmm…where are we?" She blinked up at the ceiling, then looked over at him sleepily. "How did I get here?"

"We're in Medbay," he told her, still unable to believe that she was awake and talking to him. "What's the last thing you remember?"

She thought about that for a minute, her gaze wandering around the room before returning to meet his.

"We were captured," she said finally, watching him with that inscrutable expression on her face. "They drugged me. After that…it's all hazy."

He nodded slowly, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "They overdosed you. You were in pretty bad shape. I really thought…but it doesn't matter." He shook his head. "Zeta Team figured out that we'd been captured. They broke into the facility and rescued us. We got you back to ISD, but you've been in a coma ever since."

Sophie exhaled slowly, visibly steeling herself. "How long?"

"Nineteen days." And six hours, twenty-seven minutes, and about nine seconds, but he was pretty sure she didn't care that much about the specifics.

She seemed relieved by his answer, and he wondered what she'd thought he was going to say.

"I assume the war is still going on?"

He started to answer, but something in her expression stopped him. There was a dawning realization there, as though she'd just taken her first good look at him and noticed his unshaven jaw and rumpled uniform.

"You don't have any idea, do you?" Now she sounded angry. "Damn it, Wolenczak. What did you do, just sit here and sulk for the better part of a month?"

He didn't bother to deny it, since that was pretty much exactly what he'd done.

"Sophie, I love you," he said instead. It was the only answer that made sense to him anymore.

"Love isn't the only thing in the world, Lucas." She shook her head, but her hand was surprisingly gentle when she reached up to stroke his cheek. "There's still a war on. You can't fall apart every time something goes wrong."

"I thought you were dead!"

"That doesn't change things -"

"It does." His voice was firm. "It does change things, Sophie. You do all of this because you want to win the war. I do all of this because of _you_. If you aren't with me, then I don't give a damn who wins the war. I don't care about the UEO. I don't care about the Macronesians. The only thing left in the entire world that I care about is _you_."

Her expression turned grave, and he wondered if he'd overstepped his bounds. Sophie was ISD to the core, and if she felt that he didn't have the best interests of the UEO at heart, she was likely to turn him in to the admiral herself.

"You should call one of the doctors," she said finally, not commenting at all on his impassioned speech. "And then get back to work. I'm going to be out of here by the end of the week, and I expect you to be caught up by then on whatever's changed in the past few weeks so that you can brief me."

He didn't question either her orders or her prediction of discharge from Medbay. The doctors were as intimidated by her as anyone else in ISD, and if she wanted to be released by the end of the week, that was what would happen.

He gave her hand a final squeeze and released it, heading for the door.

"Lucas," she called softly when his hand was on the knob, and he turned back around to look at her. Her face was a study in self-recrimination. "I can't -"

"I know." He offered her a warm smile. She'd told him how she felt while she was dying in his arms. He would rather never hear her say the words again than have to go through that one more time. "It's okay, Sophie. You don't have to say it. I know."

She looked like she might have said something more, then, but the door opened before he could turn the doorknob and one of the doctors walked in and realized she was awake. During the ensuing influx of doctors and med techs, Lucas managed to slip out unnoticed and make his way back to the computer labs. Jack deserved to hear the news directly from him.

* * *

He found Jack sitting in one of the labs, staring blankly at his computer screen. Lucas was unable to suppress a grin; he was going to make the other man's day when he broke the news that Sophie was awake.

"Jack?"

Pearson started, turning his head and swearing softly when he recognized Lucas.

"Wolenczak. I guess you heard."

"I heard?" Lucas repeated uncertainly. "I was there."

"You - what? You were where?"

Lucas frowned. "I'm not sure we're talking about the same thing."

Jack gestured to him, still looking grim. "You first."

"Sophie's awake."

Jack's reaction surprised Lucas; instead of smiling, or looking relieved, or running down to Medbay to see her for himself, Jack buried his face in his hands.

"What? What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy -"

"Zeta Team is gone."


	20. Chapter 20

012. The passage is blocked behind us now, and there is only one way out…

* * *

"Gone?" Lucas repeated the word dumbly, unable to grasp what Jack was trying to tell him. "What do you mean, gone?"

"They were on a mission with their new mission coordinator, Lieutenant Adams. Their intel turned out to be bad and they got caught. Adams, Carter, and Melahar are confirmed dead and the rest of the team is missing in action. We think they were taken by the Macronesians."

This was his fault, Lucas realized with dawning horror. He was the intel coordinator for Zeta Team. He was the one who'd stepped down while Sophie was incapacitated, so it was his fault that they'd gone into the field with bad information. If he'd been there doing his job, maybe they wouldn't have been captured. Maybe Carter and Melahar and Adams would still be alive.

"Who supplied them with the information?" he asked slowly. "With the intel that turned out to be faulty?"

Pearson leaned back in his chair, his expression hopeless.

"I did. I - it all seemed right, all of the data, and the timestamps in the system were authentic. I didn't realize the information was a trap until after they'd already walked into it." He shook his head. "This is my fault."

There was a sound at the door, and they both turned to find Commander Lancaster in the doorway.

"Wolenczak, Pearson. Admiral Lowry wants to see both of you in his office, right now."

* * *

The admiral's office was as cold and impersonal as every other office in the ISD building. The only concessions to his rank were the large bulletproof picture window on one wall and the leather desk chairs, which were marginally more comfortable than the norm.

Lucas, wrapped up in his guilt over the disaster that had befallen Zeta Team, almost didn't notice the gray-clad figure sitting in the furthest chair until she cleared her throat.

It was Sophie, of course, still wearing the light gray sweatpants and tank top issued to all Medbay patients. He couldn't bring himself to be surprised that she'd heard the news already; even ten minutes out of a coma, Sophie had the best network of informants of anyone in ISD. Probably one of the physicians in Medbay had let it slip that Zeta Team had disappeared.

His first impulse was to apologize to her - if he'd been doing his job instead of having a nervous breakdown in Medbay, maybe he would have caught the trap that Jack had missed - but her expression stopped him. He wasn't sure just how angry she was, but she clearly had no interest in hearing his apology.

Jack, who'd never been able to read her as well as Lucas did, started to apologize and was halted by her raised hand.

"I don't care, Pearson." Her voice was sharp. "Wait for the admiral."

Both men sat down glumly to wait. The silence in the office was stifling.

Admiral Lowry arrived several minutes later. He waved them all down when they would have stood up to salute him.

"Sit." He glanced at the three of them. "Sutton, good to see you up. Wolenczak, you too. Pearson…" He sat down behind his desk, leaning back in his chair. "Pearson, we have something of a problem here, and I'm afraid you're a large part of it."

"Admiral Lowry, sir, I swear to you that I had no way to know that the intel I supplied to Lieutenant Adams was false."

To Lucas's surprise, Lowry looked over at him next.

"Wolenczak?"

"Yes, sir?"

"What do you think?"

Lucas was caught off guard by the question. "I haven't seen the intel, sir, so I can't give an opinion on it. I do believe that Commander Pearson would never knowingly pass bad information to an ISD team."

"I'm inclined to agree." The admiral nodded slowly. "Regardless, Commander Pearson, you will be suspended while an investigation is launched into the circumstances surrounding the intelligence you supplied to Lieutenant Adams and Zeta Team for this mission."

"About Zeta Team, sir," Sophie said, and the admiral turned to her.

"Lieutenant Commander Sutton. I assume you are here because you would like to discuss application of a contingency plan."

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. Commander Pearson, as you are now suspended, you are dismissed. Please allow the guard outside to escort you to the brig for the duration of your suspension."

Pearson nodded jerkily and rose from his chair, disappearing through the door without a backward glance. Lucas knew that ISD suspension wasn't like a suspension from a typical duty station. Pearson would be placed in isolation and kept there, unable to contact anyone or access any electronics until his innocence had been proven to the admiral's satisfaction. He'd be lucky if he wasn't tortured on top of it; like Sophie, most of ISD had a dim view of traitors, whether their guilt had been proven or not.

"All right. Commander Sutton?"

"Admiral, this situation qualifies under ISD policy for the application of a contingency plan."

"I agree." He glanced over at Lucas. "Lieutenant, are you familiar with the policy we're discussing?"

"Yes, sir," he replied. Contingency plans were applied in the event that either a member of ISD was known to have been captured by the enemy or the majority of any ISD team was suspected to have been captured. "Commander Pearson informed me that Adams, Carter, and Melahar have been confirmed dead, sir. That would leave the majority of Zeta Team as missing and presumed captured, and therefore eligible for an attempt at retrieval."

"And I assume that you already have a plan selected, Sutton."

"Yes, sir." She straightened her shoulders. "I want to go. Alone."

"Sophie -" Lucas breathed, stunned, but she ignored him.

"There's precedent, sir. Sending one lone operative to infiltrate a prison facility results in better mortality rates for the captured personnel than a full-scale assault. I am the most experienced undercover operative currently assigned to this division, and I am the only one who has the psi training and ability to keep the other prison guards from becoming suspicious of me."

"You also just came out of a coma this morning," Lucas pointed out.

"Another point in my favor," she rebutted. "Any intelligence the Macronesians have will tell them that I was at death's door as of three weeks ago when Zeta Team rescued us from their facility. You could let it leak that I'm still in a coma - or better yet, that I'm dead. News like that has a way of getting around. They won't be looking for me."

In the four years Lucas had been working for ISD, he'd found Admiral Lowry to be a fairly reasonable man. It was a shock, then, when he agreed with Sophie's proposal for her to try and infiltrate a Macronesian prison alone. She and the admiral hashed out the details while he sat there, stunned. The objections he attempted to voice were dismissed out of hand by Sophie, and the admiral made no effort to argue with her.

"You'll need to report directly to Outfitting to put together a disguise," the admiral told Sophie finally. "Once I receive clearance from the medical staff, we'll arrange transportation for you."

"Thank you, sir."

The admiral nodded and excused himself, leaving Lucas staring at Sophie.

"You -" he began, but she cut him off.

"Someone has to fix this." Her voice was tightly controlled and she refused to make eye contact with him, staring out the window instead. "They have been my primary team for six years, Lucas. As their mission coordinator, they have all risked their lives for me, under my orders, at one point or another. It's my turn. The passage is blocked behind us now, and there is only one way out."

"I know. And I know that part of this is my fault. If I'd done my job…" He shook his head, blinking back the tears that stung his eyes. "But I can't help wanting…Sophie, I just got you back. I can't lose you again."

Now she met his gaze, and in her eyes he saw the anger and the grief he'd expected, but there was also compassion there.

"Yes, you _can_. You have to. If the admiral spreads the rumor that I'm dead, people will look at you to figure out the truth of it. ISD can't afford for you to fall apart this time. Throw yourself into your work. Increase your communication with contacts in other agencies, and start contacting my informants yourself. People who know our reputations know that the only reason you'd do that is if I were really gone."

"Sophie, I don't want -"

"It doesn't matter what you want." That was the legendary Lieutenant Commander Sutton, her tone icy and hard. "I'm going. If you don't play the part correctly, you'll get me killed, and that will probably spell the end for whatever members of the team survived the initial capture. Can I count on you to do your job or not?"

His chest ached, the paralyzing weight of fear heavy on his heart. After everything they'd been through, Sophie was going to leave him again. And if he couldn't work through the pain that caused him and play the role he'd been given, she'd be gone forever, and it would be his fault.

"I'll do it," he said finally, because that was the only answer he could give and still be able to live with himself. Sophie leaned in unexpectedly and pressed her mouth against his. He returned the kiss, tears pricking again at his eyes; she wouldn't kiss him now, while she was still angry with him, unless she believed there was a real chance she wasn't going to see him again.

He sat motionless as she started to leave the room, but stopped her abruptly in the doorway.

"We had a deal."

She tilted her head to one side, giving him a quizzical look, and he elaborated.

"Once we've won the war, you're mine. Remember?"

"Of course. But we haven't won the war yet, Lucas."

"But we will." He offered her a smile - tentative and tremulous, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. "If you're going to keep up your half of the deal, you have to survive the war."

Her smile was more genuine than his, and it gave him the first real glimmer of hope that this plan might not end in disaster.

"I keep my promises."

And then she was gone.

He sat in the chair for another few minutes, pulling himself together, putting on the grave expression he intended to wear as part of his new persona. It wasn't difficult. Convincing people that he was grieving the loss of his partner would be easy; in a sense, he was losing her, and there was a good chance that the grief would become very real. All it would take was one slip on his part, or hers, and she would really be dead.

He wouldn't slip; that was his only option. He would become the cold, hardened operative that he might have already become without Sophie, that he surely would become if he lost her permanently. He would be the quintessential ISD officer, cruel and calculating, taking out his own revenge against the Macs for the death of his partner. It was the only thing that would keep her alive.


	21. Chapter 21

006. I see shapes of Men and of horses...

* * *

Access to the ISD brig was exceptionally secure, just like access to every other section of ISD. Lucas typed in his 16-digit code, then submitted to the retinal scan and the handprint reader. The guards on the other side of the door nodded to him; as an intel coordinator, he was free to come and go in the brig, since extracting intelligence from prisoners was technically part of his job. On their team, however, Sophie had always taken responsibility for that part of things.

_Sophie is gone. Zeta Team is gone. _

It was a mantra that ran through his head on repeat these days, helping him to keep up the grim persona he'd adopted. Several days ago, he'd overheard two of the members of Gamma Team talking about how he'd changed since Sophie's death. One of them had commented that he scared her more than the operatives who'd always been cold and calculating; watching him lose what was left of his humanity made her wonder if it was going to happen to her someday.

He wasn't sure how he felt about her opinion on a personal level, but professionally it meant he was doing his job and selling his new façade as reality. If his own people believed it, there would be no reason for the Macronesians to doubt the rumors they were surely hearing by now, and Sophie's cover would be safe.

Jack Pearson was in the furthest cell from the door. When Lucas opened the door, Jack was sprawled across the cot, staring dully at the ceiling.

"Jack."

"Mmm."

"Jack."

"Mmm…I see shapes of men and of horses…"

Lucas gave one of the legs of the cot a sharp kick, jolting Jack out of his stupor.

"Pull it together, Commander," Lucas advised the senior intel coordinator, who blinked several times in rapid succession and seemed to remember where he was.

"Wolenczak?" Jack sat up, rubbing blearily at his eyes. "Damn. What did they give me?"

"Some sort of experimental truth serum."

"Did it work?"

"You spent the last two days babbling about horses and jockeys."

"Needs more experimenting, I guess."

"Not my department," Lucas pointed out. He hadn't had anything to do with Pearson's interrogation; that had fallen to officers significantly more senior than he was. "Come on, let's go."

"Go where? Tell me they didn't send you down here to practice your interrogation techniques on me."

Lucas leaned against the wall, giving the other man an even look. "Don't be ridiculous. I've finished reviewing the data you supplied to Zeta Team on their last deployment. Everything checked out."

"Everything…" Jack stared at him blankly. "What are you saying?"

"Zeta Team was set up by the Macronesians, but it was out of your control. I spoke with the admiral, and your suspension was officially revoked this morning." Lucas gestured toward the door to the cell, which was standing open. It had taken him longer to get through the data than he'd hoped it would, mostly because without Jack there, they were short an intel coordinator and the workload for ISD's active and pending missions was nothing short of outrageous. Lucas felt guilty about it, knowing that Jack had ended up dealing with the same increased workload when he'd holed himself up in Medbay with Sophie instead of returning to his own duties. "You're free to go."

It took a few minutes for that to sink in, but eventually a brilliant smile overtook Jack's puzzled expression. "Wolenczak, you're the best friend a guy could ask for."

He reached out to slap Lucas on the shoulder congenially, and was surprised that the younger man didn't so much as crack a smile.

"ISD needs you back in your position as an intelligence coordinator." Lucas turned toward the door. "Friendship has nothing to do with it."

Jack was staring at him again. "If Sophie -" he began, and Lucas interrupted him.

"Sophie's dead."

Even being in the brig hadn't kept Jack from hearing that Sophie had died in that coma, and he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut about the fact that he'd seen her awake the day he'd been suspended. If Wolenczak was playing along with that story, then she'd probably gone looking for Zeta Team undercover, which meant he was going to have to keep his mouth shut indefinitely and continue to play along just like Wolenczak was.

"I heard. I'm sorry, Lucas."

Lucas didn't acknowledge the apology. "There's a staff meeting tomorrow morning at 0800. I'll have a list of pending missions for you then."

With that, Lucas was gone, and Jack was left standing alone in the cell that had been his prison for the past two weeks. Clearly, a lot of things had changed in that time, and he needed to get in contact with his sources to find out how it was going to affect him personally and ISD as a whole. First, though, what he _really_ needed was a shower and a change of clothes.


	22. Chapter 22

017. The sun dipped and vanished, and as if at the shuttering of a lamp, black night fell.

* * *

Slowly, life fell back into a routine for Lucas. He woke up early each morning and simply walked down the hall to one of the computer labs, now that he'd started sleeping in the on-site ISD quarters. They contained literally nothing more than a bed and a light switch, but he didn't need much more than that these days. His apartment was full of reminders of Sophie, and he couldn't afford the distractions that those reminders created. He worked until lunch, grabbed food from the mess hall, and went back to work until his eyes were too tired to read the computer screen anymore, at which point he went back to his quarters and collapsed only to get up the next morning and do it all again.

On some level, he was starting to realize why ISD preferred its operatives to become the sort of soulless robots he was currently pretending to be, since he got three times more work done now than he had when Sophie and Zeta Team had been around. If he burned himself out faster this way, there were always new recruits to be brought in to take his place. It was a depressing thought, and it resurfaced in his mind several times a day.

Jack Pearson was also more subdued than he'd been before, although it wasn't the drastic change it had been with Lucas. He suspected that part of Jack's shift in focus was because of Sophie's 'death', but a larger part of it was probably related to his recent suspension. As far as he knew, that was the first time Jack had been suspended, and the ensuing weeks of interrogation he'd endured seemed to have shaken him. The old Lucas would have pulled him aside and asked him if he wanted to talk about it. Now, he merely glared at Jack whenever the other man's attention seemed to be wandering, and silently hoped that he could get his head back in the game quickly enough to avoid attracting the attention of a higher ranking officer who might decide that Jack was too much of a liability to continue in ISD. If Jack couldn't perform, they would get rid of him, and ISD's retirement plan usually consisted of a bullet to the back of the head rather than a 401K and a farewell party.

That was the way things stood when, on a Tuesday afternoon, the admiral ordered Lucas to report to his office and gave him the news that changed his entire world.

It was the day he learned that the _seaQuest_ had been found.

* * *

Twenty-six hours later, Lucas stood in a cornfield in Iowa, staring at an impossibility. The _seaQuest _was sitting there on dry land, right smack in the middle of someone's farm. The bucolic setting, complete with the darkening of the sky as twilight approached, added a surreal touch to a scenario so outrageous that he never would have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

"Commander?" the helicopter pilot who'd flown him out here asked, and he nearly forgot to respond.

"Yes, Petty Officer?" he asked finally, when the shock of seeing the boat started to recede and he remembered that the admiral had given him ISD's version of a field promotion for the duration of this investigation. Lowry had advised him that there would be a number of high-ranking officers involved in trying to unravel the mystery of the _seaQuest_'s reappearance, and as a lieutenant they might not afford him the same consideration that they would a full commander. He didn't argue with the admiral because he understood the logic, and also because if he'd tried to point out that it was against regulations to promote him two ranks at once, Lowry might have decided to temporarily make him an admiral just to prove a point. The last thing he needed was to be contending with Lowry's bizarre sense of humor on top of everything else.

"Would you like to go aboard, sir? One of the recon teams says that there's a hatch they can jimmy open."

"I would," Lucas confirmed. "I'll want two fully armed recon teams with me. There's no telling what might be aboard."

The pilot pointed out the team that had managed to find a usable hatch. Lucas headed toward them as the pilot went to find a second team. It only took a few minutes for the recon personnel to get the doors to one of the launch bays open, but Lucas insisted that they wait for the second team to join them before they entered the boat. When both teams were prepared, weapons at the ready, he led them silently into the place he'd called home during the happiest years of his life.

Behind them, the sun dipped and vanished, and as if at the shuttering of a lamp, black night fell.

* * *

The search of the boat turned up little of value. Clearly the ship had been through some sort of battle; several of the bridge consoles had fused panels that could only be the result of simultaneous electrical shorts causing overheating, which happened typically only when the ship was under attack, and there were some damaged portions of the wall paneling that suggested handheld weapons had been fired onboard.

The admiral had been particularly interested in the overall structural integrity of the boat and the feasibility of its use as the UEO flagship once again. He would be able to reassure Lowry on that point, as there was very little structural damage and what there was could be fixed without too much trouble at any naval shipyard. He was concerned about the computer systems, which would all of course be ten years out of date, but there was no real reason they shouldn't function independently. They would have to be updated, however, before they could interface with the new systems that the UEO had adapted since the boat's disappearance.

The most glaring anomaly that came up during the search was a startling one for Lucas. There had been over two hundred crew members onboard the ship at the time of its disappearance, but there were no bodies to be found anywhere on the ship. Even the morgue drawers in sickbay, which he'd opened after steeling himself for the possible discovery of an old friend's countenance, were empty.

"Where are they?" he murmured to himself, drawing the attention of one of the recon team members.

"Sir?"

He waved the man off instead of repeating his rhetorical question; the teams weren't ISD, so he didn't know any of their personnel, and he still had a reputation as a cold-hearted bastard to maintain.

He left sickbay and headed back to C deck, and found himself abruptly in front of the door to his own quarters. He glanced around, but the hallway was deserted, most of the recon personnel having adjourned to the bridge or to sickbay once they'd finished the initial sweep of the boat.

The hatch was unlocked, and he felt an unsettling déjà vu as he opened it to reveal his quarters looking almost exactly as they had ten years ago, the day he'd left the boat with Dr. Westphalen to attend a scientific conference in New Cape Quest. The day before the _seaQuest_ had vanished.

His bed was still unmade, the blankets shoved down to the foot of the bed and several items of clothing strewn carelessly across them. All of the souvenirs and assorted other pieces of junk he'd managed to collect during _seaQuest'_s tour were still there. And his computers - his whole tech setup was still intact, exactly the way he'd left it. He sat down in his old desk chair, marveling silently at the equipment he'd once known inside and out. All of it had been state of the art back then, and all of it was obsolete technology now.

His comset trilled and he reached up to his ear, activating it absently. Most of his attention was still caught up in the time capsule in front of him, in the room that had somehow stayed the same while the world changed around it.

"Wolenczak."

"Report to Norfolk immediately," Admiral Lowry instructed him, not wasting any time with pleasantries.

"I'm aboard the _seaQuest _now, sir," he replied slowly. "She's largely intact; she should be able to withstand immediate transportation to the nearest naval shipyard for wet-dock repairs. With enough personnel on the job, I'd expect her to be ready to sail within the week. There's no sign of the crew, though."

"Yes, there is," Lowry informed him. "In Norfolk. I'll talk to McGath about having the _seaQuest _moved to a shipyard. I want you in the air in ten minutes."

"Yes, sir."

The line disconnected. It took a moment for Lucas to regain his equilibrium. What had Lowry meant - had they found the actual crew members, or just some evidence of their whereabouts? Were they alive or dead?

He stood, suddenly galvanized. He needed to get to Norfolk, to find the answers he'd wanted for so many years.

He headed for the hallway, but paused with his hand on the hatch. Turning back around, he looked over the room, his eyes falling on the picture tucked partway between the mattress and the frame of the bed. It was a picture of him with Darwin and Captain Bridger in the moon pool, the two humans smiling for the camera while the dolphin bobbed happily between them.

The picture slipped easily into the hidden pocket inside his uniform, and he shut the door before continuing on to the bridge to round up his helicopter pilot and get started for Norfolk.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: This is a long one. There are some non-canon details about the situation surrounding the _seaQuest_'s disappearance, including the fact that most of the first season crew was still onboard.

* * *

032. The days have gone down in the west, behind the hills, into shadow.

* * *

Lucas had been stationed in Norfolk for several months prior to his transfer to ISD. The base hadn't changed any in the ensuing years, so he had no trouble finding his way to the brig section where those crewmembers of the _seaQuest_ who had been found so far were being held.

There were twenty-six of them in all, their names and ranks listed in one of the files he'd been given on his arrival. The captain who ran the base had taken one look at the pin on the collar of Lucas's uniform, recognized the crossed knight-and-key insignia as belonging to one of the cloak and dagger divisions of UEO Command, and immediately handed over all of the information he had on the _seaQuest _crew. Lucas had initially been surprised at how relieved the man seemed to be at the involvement of ISD, but then it occurred to him that this sort of scenario would have huge political ramifications, not all of which would be positive. Captain Belhan was probably glad to avoid all of the delicate political maneuvering that this was going to require.

Lucas asked for and received access to a small office located next to the brig to use as his temporary base of operations. Once the captain left him alone, he shut the door and opened the folder, scanning the list again. There were several members of the engineering department, eight members of the science contingent, a few assorted members of other departments onboard, and three of the senior bridge officers. He read those names again, his fingers moving over the flat print as though touching the letters would reveal some heretofore undiscovered secret.

_Ford, Jonathan, Cmdr. _

_Hitchcock, Katherine, Lt. Cmdr._

_O'Neill, Timothy, Lt. j.g._

Despite the size of Norfolk's brig, they hadn't had twenty-six spare cells, so they'd grouped the _seaQuest _crew into several empty cells based on their designators. Belhan had informed Lucas that the crew hadn't been particularly pleased with the accommodations despite his personnel explaining to them that, until their identities could be verified by UEO Command, they were technically classed as 'suspicious persons' and were therefore required to remain in the secured portion of the naval base. Lucas had nodded, expecting that response, and requested that the three senior officers be moved into one of the interrogation rooms in preparation for his interview with them.

He had no idea what he was going to say to them. After ten years of believing they were dead, how was he supposed to start a conversation with them? It wasn't likely that they'd even recognize him now, and his uniform only sported a naval commander's bars and the ISD insignia on his collar, since ISD operatives never wore name patches. He _could_ use a cover and keep his real identity a secret for the time being. He always carried documentation for at least one cover identity, and there would be advantages to making himself a completely unknown quantity. The admiral had ordered him specifically to do the interviews, however, and he might have been relying on Lucas using his old relationships with the crewmembers to get information out of them. Layered on top of all of those considerations was the continuing need for him to remain aloof. Miraculously returned _seaQuest _crew or not, admiral's orders or not, Sophie's undercover operation was still going on, and none of this was worth risking her life or the lives of Zeta Team. He couldn't permit his façade to slip, even in front of his old friends.

He was going to have to muddle through somehow. Admiral Lowry's instructions had been explicit: verify their identities, figure out where the hell they've been, and determine whether any of them have been subverted by the Macronesians.

_Simple_, he thought dryly to himself, and wondered why this sort of thing always seemed to happen to him.

* * *

Ford was pacing again. Katie glared at him, but he didn't seem to notice. A glance over at Tim showed her that he was lost in thought, probably praying silently. She wasn't particularly religious, herself, but they needed all the Hail Marys they could get at this point.

She tolerated Ford's pacing for another few minutes, but eventually she just couldn't take it anymore.

"Jonathan," she said, a little sharper than she'd intended, and he halted immediately, looking sheepish. This was the fourth time in as many hours that she'd asked him to stop his incessant pacing.

"Sorry. I just -"

"No, I'm sorry." Katie rubbed her hands over her face. "I think we're all on edge. I just wish I knew what was going on."

"Yeah, me too." Ford sat down next to her, resting his hands on the battered table, which was the only piece of furniture in the interrogation room other than the chairs they sat in. He started to drum his fingers on the table, but stopped when Katie gave him a disbelieving look. "Right. Sorry."

The door opened then and all three of them jumped out of their chairs, turning to face the newcomer.

The man who entered was tall, probably six feet even, and wore a black jumpsuit with no visible identification. Ford's eyes went first to the bars on his shoulders, which indicated that he was a commander, but O'Neill's gaze was caught by the striking scar on the left side of his face. Even though the lines of the scar were faded, it was still impressive, and from the look of it he'd been lucky not to lose the eye. Katie was trying to process the fact that the man's dark blond hair was in extreme violation of uniform regs; it was actually long enough that he'd pulled it back in a short ponytail. He looked more like a pirate than a UEO officer. Whoever he was, he clearly wasn't part of the regular rank and file or his commanding officer would have had his head shaved by now.

"Good afternoon." His tone was curt, barely polite despite the innocuous words. "I understand that you three claim to be members of the _seaQuest _crew?"

"Commander Jonathan Ford," Ford began, gesturing to the other two. "This is Lieutenant Commander Katherine Hitchcock and Lieutenant Timothy O'Neill. We're all part of the crew currently assigned to the _seaQuest DSV_. Listen, we have no idea what's going on or what we're doing here, Commander -" Ford paused suddenly. "I'm sorry, Commander, I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't offer it." The man took a seat in the empty chair across the table from the three of them, gesturing for them to sit. "Commander Ford, you and your crewmates are in something of a delicate situation. Things will go better for you if you answer my questions truthfully."

Ford considered remaining standing as a subtle protest at the way this stranger was treating them, like suspected criminals instead of fellow UEO officers, but something in his expression stopped him. This was clearly not a man who was accustomed to being crossed, and Ford got the feeling that defying him might turn out to be a fatal mistake.

He sat, Katie and Tim following his lead.

"Good. Now, Lieutenant Commander Hitchcock."

Katie stiffened. "Yes, sir?" she replied slowly, distrust audible in her tone.

"Describe for me your most recent memory of being aboard the _seaQuest_."

She frowned, and Ford knew it wasn't just because she didn't like the unknown commander's high-handedness. All three of them had gone over and over the last things they remembered before waking up in various places around the world, and none of them had been able to offer any sort of satisfactory explanation as to what had happened.

"We were engaged in war games, sir, against the _Atalanta _and the _Roosevelt_. The HR probe onboard was functioning at less than optimal resolution, and it was impairing my ability to advise the captain as to the _Atalanta_'s likely position. I was running a systems diagnostic to find the problem, and then -" She shrugged, helpless. "I woke up in one of the empty lecture halls at the Naval Academy."

The man's expression remained inscrutable. "Your explanation for the discrepancy?"

"I don't have one, sir."

The words came from between clenched teeth, and Lucas resisted the urge to smile. Katie Hitchcock had always hated to admit it when she didn't know the answer to a question.

"Lieutenant O'Neill?"

"The same war games exercise, sir, but I was tracing the recent communications between the _Atalanta _and the _Roosevelt_. The next thing I remember is waking up in a bar."

"Commander Ford?"

Ford looked resigned. "Same exercise, sir. We were approaching the Tonga Trench, and then I was waking up in a hotel shower."

Lucas resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the tabletop. It was a nervous habit that would clue the _seaQuest _crew into the fact that he was nervous, which was unacceptable. His other nervous habit of running his hands through his hair was neatly curtailed by the short ponytail he was currently sporting. No one in ISD had commented on his hair yet, although when Sophie returned from her mission she was likely to cut it all off while he was sleeping. It didn't exactly conform to regulations.

"Lieutenant O'Neill, what is today's date?"

"Sorry, sir?"

"The date, Lieutenant." The commander actually sounded more interested in his answer to this question than he had in their recitations of their last memories onboard the boat. Baffled, Tim looked over at Ford, who shrugged slightly.

"September 18th."

"And the year?"

"2022?" Tim replied, his inflection making it more of a question than a statement. The commander's expression still hadn't changed, but Tim got the feeling that he was displeased with the answer.

"Commander Ford?"

"The lieutenant is correct. September 18th, 2022."

"Commander Hitchcock? Do you concur?"

"Of course I do." Katie folded her arms across her chest, looking defensive. "We might be confused about what happened, Commander, but we aren't so disoriented that we don't know what day or year it is."

Lucas leaned back in his seat. "So it would surprise you if I said that today's date is September 22nd?"

"Not particularly, Commander," Ford replied, trading another glance with his fellow _seaQuest _officers. "Given the unusual circumstances, I don't think it's unreasonable to allow that we might have lost track of a couple of days."

"Commander Ford, today's date is September 22nd. The year is 2032."

There was silence for a long moment as the _seaQuest _officers stared at him.

"Not possible," Katie said finally, the first one to overcome her shock. "Listen, Commander, I don't know what sort of game you're playing, but -"

The commander cracked a smile for the first time since he'd walked into the room. Unfortunately, it was the sort of smile that put Tim in mind of a great white shark's expression just before it bit off someone's arm.

"What sort of game I'm playing?" he repeated slowly, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. "Be very careful here, Katie. This may not end well for you."

"Hey, that's Lieutenant Commander Hitchcock to you, buddy," Ford snapped, pushing up out of his chair and leaning across the table toward the still unidentified man. "She's an officer in the UEO Navy, the same as you, and she deserves your respect."

"Ah." His expression changed, and for a moment Katie thought she saw real amusement in his eyes. "My apologies, Commander Hitchcock."

Katie looked at him - _really _looked, for the first time. To her surprise, there was something familiar about him.

"No, I...do I know you?"

"Quite frankly, Commander, I'm surprised you recognize me. It's been a long ten years."

A soft buzzing noise interrupted them, and Lucas held up a hand for their silence as he put the other hand to his ear.

"Commander Wolenczak, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you asked to be notified if Captain Bridger was located," Belhan's voice said through his comunit, too quietly for any of the _seaQuest _members to overhear. "He's en route to Norfolk now, ETA 20 minutes."

"Thank you, Captain," Lucas acknowledged, and the comunit fell silent again. He looked back up at his former shipmates, meeting Katie's questioning gaze. "If you three will excuse me, I have another interview to conduct. I should be back with you in an hour or so."

"Wait." Katie's hand on his arm stopped him just before he reached the door, and only a last-minute burst of self-control kept him from breaking her grip on his wrist and throwing her into the two-way mirror. Someone was going to have to let the _seaQuest _crew know that casually grabbing people who were currently fighting in a war was a good way to get themselves killed. "You never told us your name."

He removed her hand from his arm, albeit a good deal more gently than he might have otherwise.

"Keep thinking. Maybe it'll come back to you."

* * *

The two petty officers escorted Bridger into the interview room and left him there, ostensibly taking up guard duty on the other side of the door. Bridger barely noticed their departure, his attention on the man sitting in the chair across from him.

"Have a seat, Captain," the man invited him, and Bridger acquiesced reluctantly.

"Who are you?"

"I'll be happy to tell you, Captain, but first I need to know how you ended up on Bridger's Island."

Bridger sighed, leveling an irritated glare at the man wearing commander's bars. "You're not the first person to ask me that today, Commander."

"And you still haven't answered the question."

"Oh, I'll tell you exactly what I told those two," he replied, waving his hand vaguely to indicate the enlisted men who'd just left the room. "I have no idea how I got there. I was onboard _seaQuest_, leading a simulated war games exercise, and we were approaching the Tonga Trench. The next thing I know, I'm waking up in what's left of my house on my island and there are two petty officers waiting to stick me in a helicopter and drag me to Norfolk. If you're looking for answers, Commander, then that makes two of us."

"Did those petty officers mention anything to you about the current situation?"

"Do I look like anyone has told me what's going on?" Bridger crossed his arms, feeling more certain by the minute that this man was part of some national security misadventure he'd somehow ended up on the wrong side of. He had that 'if I told you, I'd have to kill you' look about him. "Listen, Commander, I want to know what's happened to my crew and my boat, and if you won't tell me, then I want to speak with Admiral Noyce immediately."

"That may be difficult, Captain. Admiral Noyce retired two years ago."

Bridger stared blankly at him. "Excuse me?" he said finally, disbelief coloring his voice. "Admiral William Noyce?"

"Yes, Captain. Admiral William Noyce, married to Janet Noyce, attended the Naval Academy with you. I believe he's living somewhere in the Caribbean."

"That's simply not possible. I talked to him three days ago. This ridiculous war games exercise was his idea in the first place!"

"That ridiculous war games exercise, as you so eloquently put it, Captain, was initiated on September 15th, 2022." The commander set a file folder down on the table in front of Bridger, turning it around for the older man to read. "On September 18th, 2022, the captain of the UEO vessel _Atalanta_ sent an urgent communiqué to UEO Command informing them that they had lost all contact with the _seaQuest_. It was initially believed to be some sort of new evasive tactic being employed successfully by the _seaQuest _in the context of the exercise, but after the initial time course of the war games exercise had elapsed with no word from _seaQuest_, an intensive search was initiated."

Bridger was staring at the papers, a stack of memos and communiqués that told the same story the commander was currently summarizing for him.

"The search was called off after three months. The _seaQuest_ was declared lost with all hands. No trace of her was ever found; no debris, no weapons signatures. The _seaQuest _was simply gone."

"What are you saying?" Bridger was having trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that the _seaQuest _had just vanished into thin air - and if that had actually happened, why didn't he remember it?

"I'm saying, Captain, that the _seaQuest_, along with every member of the crew who was aboard on September 18th, has been missing for the past ten years."

* * *

Ford was pacing again. Katie was still sitting in her chair and seemed oblivious to Ford's agitation.

"You really recognized that guy?" Tim sounded concerned. "I mean, he seems dangerous. Like 'couldn't be convicted because the bodies were never recovered' dangerous."

"I don't recognize him, exactly," she replied, her analytical mind working overtime to try and figure out who the man had been. "I could swear I've never seen him before. I would've remembered that scar. But there's something about him..."

Tim looked over at Ford, but the man's rapid pacing seemed to occupy him completely.

"He said it's been ten years since you've seen each other," Tim pointed out, avoiding the fact that he'd also said they'd somehow lost ten years of their lives. "At most, the guy was - what? Thirty-five?"

"Hard to tell," Katie said slowly. "He might've been older. But if we assume he was thirty-five, that means I met him when he was twenty-five. Maybe he was a junior officer onboard _seaQuest_?"

"Then wouldn't he be in the same situation we are?" Tim reasoned. "And why would he have referred to us as 'the _seaQuest_ crew' if he was part of the crew?"

"I don't know."

"I think I do."

They both turned to look at Ford, who'd stopped pacing abruptly and was now staring at his own reflection in the two-way mirror, looking poleaxed.

"Commander?" Tim asked, and Ford exhaled sharply.

"Lower your age estimate a little bit, Lieutenant. Assume that the scars make him look older. What if he were twenty-nine instead of thirty-five?"

"Then he would've been nineteen when Commander Hitchcock met him," Tim replied, not sure where Ford was going with this. "I don't know how many nineteen-year-olds Commander Hitchcock knows, though."

"Just Lucas," Katie replied offhandedly, and then froze when her brain caught up with her mouth. "No. No way."

As much as she wanted to deny the suggestion out of hand, though, once she started to make the comparison she realized that Ford had a point. The unknown commander had the same blue eyes as Lucas. He was a little taller than the teenager, but if he really was Lucas aged ten years, maybe he'd put on a little height as he'd gotten older. The way he'd said her name, the amusement that had flashed in his eyes at Ford's rebuke -

"It would explain the hair," she muttered, loudly enough that Ford and O'Neill both heard her and choked on identical surprised laughs. "Oh, like you weren't thinking it," she added, raising her eyebrows at Ford. "That's exactly the sort of thing Lucas would have tried to get away with if he'd been in the military."

"Except that he is getting away with it," Ford pointed out. "I get the feeling there aren't a lot of people who'd dare to tell that guy, whoever he is, to cut his hair. And his uniform is missing any sort of identification; no name patch or ship patch, and no place I could see where one had been removed."

"Did you recognize the pin on his collar?"

"No," Ford admitted, but O'Neill hesitated.

"Tim?"

"I - I don't exactly recognize it, but I think I may have seen that symbol before. The chess piece crossed over the key? I think I saw it once, on a classified file I translated for UEO Command back before I was posted to _seaQuest_."

"So our mystery man, who may or may not be an older version of Lucas, also may or may not be working for some kind of classified UEO division?" Ford shook his head. "Man, I hate this sort of thing."

"I know what you mean," Katie agreed fervently. "I wish we were back on _seaQuest_, doing our normal jobs and living our normal lives."

* * *

"Ten years," Bridger murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's been ten years?"

"I'm afraid so, Captain."

"And my crew? Have they turned up the same way I did?"

"We've recovered twenty-six crew members so far. All of them endorse amnesia beginning during the war games exercise in September of 2022 and remember nothing until waking up yesterday in various locations."

"What about the rest of them? The _seaQuest _has a crew complement of over two hundred, Commander. If my people are missing, you need to find them."

"We're looking for them, Captain."

"That's not good enough. I want out of here. Now. I'll be happy to come back and help you try to piece together what happened after I know that all of my people are safe."

The commander's expression softened incrementally, and Bridger had a moment of deja vu.

"You haven't changed, Captain."

There was something about his voice, about the way he said Bridger's rank like it was more than just a title...

"Not all of my crew members were onboard during the war games," Bridger said, his mind racing. "There were several people missing. Kristin Westphalen and Lucas Wolenczak were off the boat, attending a scientific symposium. They were both civilians; I don't know if you have any record of what happened to them -"

"Doctor Westphalen is currently the head of the Stanford Marine Institute in California."

"And Lucas?"

Lucas met the captain's gaze and saw the uncertainty there. Bridger had clued into his identity significantly faster than Katie had, but the captain still wasn't convinced that his intuitive leap was correct.

"Lucas Wolenczak joined the Navy shortly after the disappearance of the _seaQuest_. He spent his first few years working in computer science and technology development, and then he was offered a transfer to the Intelligence Security Division. Everything after that point is classified."

"Until now?"

"Technically, including now," Lucas acknowledged, allowing himself a small smile at the expression of tremulous hope on Bridger's formerly weary features. "My presence here isn't exactly public knowledge."

"Lucas." Bridger reached across the table and grabbed his hand, gripping it tightly. Lucas, who'd been expecting something of the sort, did a better job of repressing his defensive reaction than he'd done with Katie. "My God, Lucas. Is it really you?"

"It's me, Captain."

"Lucas, what's going on? What happened to you?" Bridger gestured to the left side of his face, but knew the answer almost as soon as the question left his lips. "No, let me guess. It's classified."

"Right again, sir."

"All right, here's a question you should be able to answer. When was the last time you got a haircut?"

A snort of laughter escaped Lucas before he could stop himself, and he hoped devoutly that there wasn't anyone from ISD watching through the two-way mirror.

"It's complicated, Captain. A lot has happened in the past ten years."

"I still can't believe this. The last time I saw you, kiddo, you were still a teenager."

"Those were the good days."

"What changed?"

"The world changed." Lucas's tone was meditative. "The _seaQuest _disappeared, the war started, and the whole world changed. Now the days have gone down into the west, behind the hills, into shadow."

Bridger suppressed a shiver at the portent that the words evoked.

"It can't be that bad," he disclaimed, but the expression on the younger man's face said otherwise.

"You'll see," was all Lucas said, and Bridger's sense of foreboding grew stronger.

"The war?" he asked, finally realizing what Lucas had said. "We're at war?"

"That's complicated, too." Lucas shook his head. "There's a lot you need to be briefed on, Captain. The sooner the better."


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: A huge thank you to my reviewers - you keep this story going!

* * *

044. His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom.

* * *

Over the next three days, the rest of the _seaQuest _crew reappeared. They all told similar variations of the story Lucas had gotten from Bridger, Hitchcock, O'Neill, and Ford, and none of them appeared to have aged a day in the past ten years. UEO Command had even brought in a team of psychics from Chatton to scan the crew, but they'd come up completely empty of anything that might help them piece together the last ten years. Medical exams had shown several compelling arguments for the theory that the crew had somehow been placed into stasis, including a still-healing incision of O'Neill's that records showed was from a minor surgery just before the _seaQuest_'s disappearance.

Lucas wasn't certain what the truth really was, and he was starting to believe that they would never know for sure. He was far too busy trying to get the _seaQuest_'s systems operational to spend much time thinking about the various outlandish theories that other people were bandying about. He spent about half of his time working on the update for the computer systems and the other half helping Hitchcock and Bridger rig the boat's hardware to support the weapons and equipment upgrades that needed to be made. He hoped that Jack Pearson had gotten back into the swing of things at ISD, because otherwise their division was going to end up buried by the intelligence workload.

In the little over a week that he'd been on _seaQuest_, he'd done a reasonable job of dodging his old friends' questions about his life since their disappearance. He was assisted in that objective by how incredibly complex the upgrades to the boat were turning out to be, as he barely had time to eat and sleep enough to keep himself moving, let alone time for idle chit-chat. The crew had also proven that they were still quick learners; after one incident where Brody had grabbed his shoulder without warning and ended up with a hairline jaw fracture from his instinctive right hook, they took great pains to make noise when they approached him and keep their hands to themselves. Lucas was just glad he hadn't shot the lieutenant. It was one more example of how ill-prepared the _seaQuest _crew really was to be thrown into the middle of a war.

"How much longer do you think the upgrades will take, Commander?"

He was having yet another vid conference with Admiral Lowry regarding the status of his temporary assignment on _seaQuest_. Lowry had shown no signs of wanting to pull Lucas out and send him back to headquarters, and Lucas was beginning to suspect that the admiral had an ulterior motive.

"At a minimum, sir, I wouldn't expect the upgrades to be complete for at least another six weeks." And six more weeks of the schedule he was currently keeping might kill him. "Conservatively, it could take as long as three months."

"And the boat remains functional?"

"At all times, sir. We're installing the upgrades around the current systems. It takes longer and it's more complicated, but UEO Command made it clear that the _seaQuest_ needed to be back on patrol immediately. This will make our fourth day patrolling the Macronesian border."

"Interesting tactical decision, placing the UEO's most visible and least capable sub in such a dangerous position."

"At this point, sir, I believe they're playing the odds. Bourne can't afford the negative press he'd receive in the non-aligned confederations if he destroyed the _seaQuest _on his own border. If we were posted anywhere else, he could sink us and blame it on someone else." Lucas gave the admiral half a smile. "Besides, sir, I think you're underestimating this boat. She isn't up to full strength yet, but she's far from being an easy target."

"And the search for any possible traitors onboard?"

"It hasn't turned up anything so far, sir. Wherever the crew was for those ten years, they don't appear to have been influenced by the Macronesians. Half of them still have no idea who Alexander Bourne is."

"And the new crew members?"

Not all of the _seaQuest _crew had decided to return to active duty after the shock of finding out that they'd lost ten years of their lives. In particular, the science section had been nearly decimated by the exodus. The science section probably would have needed to be minimized anyway, given that the UEO was currently at war and _seaQuest _now needed to be less of a peacekeeper and more of an enforcer. Still, some of the crew who'd resigned had been military, and the Navy had replaced them with some of the best and brightest they had to offer.

"They were all vetted by UEO Command prior to being assigned to the _seaQuest_, but this would be an excellent opportunity for Bourne to slip a spy aboard."

"Someone is going to need to keep a quiet eye on the crew, both the old and new members. Someone they won't be expecting. Someone who already has another valid reason to be on the boat."

"I'll need to remain aboard _seaQuest_." Lucas realized the necessity of that decision, but he wished desperately that there was someone else who could get the job done. He wasn't sure his cold-hearted operative cover would be able to survive prolonged contact with all of his old friends. Already he was finding it hard not to laugh at Ben's jokes or commiserate with Bridger's frustrations regarding the problems aboard _seaQuest_. "Keeping me here to update all of the computer systems and act as an intelligence advisor for Captain Bridger is a good enough excuse that no one is likely to look any deeper than that. I can work on vetting the crew and ferreting out any traitors without much suspicion being directed toward me."

"I agree, Commander, but we'll also need to be conducting a more obvious witch hunt. If we don't look like we're scrutinizing the crew, someone's going to get suspicious as to why."

This was the sort of ISD logic that had always given him headaches, and he spared a moment to wish that Sophie could be here helping him sort out this mess.

"If that's the case, sir, then I would like to suggest stationing an entire ISD team onboard _seaQuest_. The boat's own security complement is still inadequate to face the significant threat that the Macronesians present, so the team would also be serving a dual purpose." If Brody heard him call the boat's security 'inadequate', he'd throw a fit, but it was nothing less than the truth. Besides, Brody had gotten a lot touchier after Lucas had cracked his jaw for him. It appeared that being laid out flat on the deck by someone he still thought of as a geeky kid genius was bad for his sizeable ego.

"Done. You'll also need a mission coordinator to lead the official personnel review of the _seaQuest _crew and to share responsibility for the ISD team. Any preference as to who you'd like me to send?"

_Sophie_, thought Lucas, but he managed to remain expressionless. "No preference, sir."

"Fair enough. I'll have the team and your new mission coordinator to you in 48 hours. I expect you won't have any trouble working out their accommodations."

"No, sir. Will you be sending them in under the auspices of Section Seven?" It was a common ISD practice, using the better known name of Section Seven to avoid flashing their own designation around. ISD was still a fairly well-kept secret even inside the UEO.

"No." Lowry leaned forward, tapping his fingers sharply on his desk. "No, I want Stassi to know that ISD has a presence on the _seaQuest_. I want him to know that we're coming for him."

"He'll be doubly suspicious of _seaQuest _if he knows we're here, sir."

Lowry's smile wasn't the least bit pleasant.

"Good."

"Admiral, does this mean that you'll be maintaining my temporary promotion?" Lucas stressed the word 'temporary', although he had little hope that the admiral would take the hint and restore his former rank.

"I think it will be of benefit to you in your current position. Congratulations, Commander; your promotion is officially permanent."

Now Lucas had a real problem, and unless he could get the admiral to read between the lines, he wasn't going to be able to explain it.

"Sir, I am uncomfortable accepting this promotion."

"You're uncomfortable." Even through the vidlink, Lowry's intense stare made him squirm. "May I ask why?"

"There are, ah, certain individuals who I would prefer not to be promoted over."

For a long moment, he thought the admiral wasn't going to make the connection, and then Lowry let out a sharp bark of laughter.

"Wolenczak, Lieutenant Commander Sutton is dead. I highly doubt she's still keeping score of who outranks who."

"Regardless, sir, perhaps you could enter a posthumous promotion into her file."

"Would you like me to keep promoting her every time you make another rank, Commander? In fifteen years, is Sutton's ghost going to make Admiral?"

"That would be wonderful, sir. Thank you."

Lowry looked like he might argue the point, but eventually he shook his head.

"I'll take care of it. She certainly did a number on you, Wolenczak."

"I can get the job done without her, sir," he replied, somewhat surprised to realize that it was true, that he'd been getting the job done without her for over a month. "I'm just not sure I can live in a world where I outrank her, dead or alive."

* * *

Pearson dropped off the latest set of mission updates to the admiral personally, using it as an excuse to get his boss alone.

"Thank you, Commander," Lowry said, taking the stack of reports, and frowned when Pearson hesitated. "Was there something else?"

"I was just wondering about Wolenczak, sir."

"Oh?"

"Any idea when he'll be returning, sir?"

"I'm reassigning him to the _seaQuest _as an intelligence advisor. ISD needs to have a visible presence on that boat."

Pearson considered that for a moment, not sure how to best voice his concerns without coming across as treasonous.

"I'm concerned about his transfer, Admiral."

"Don't worry, Jack. I've got two new intel coordinators who will be starting under you this week. The workload will be manageable again before any of your people collapse under the strain."

"I appreciate that, sir, but my concern was more for Wolenczak."

"You're worried about throwing him into a new situation?"

"It's just so soon after the loss of Commander Sutton, sir. And to put him in a position where he's surrounded by people who only know him as the teenage civilian he was ten years ago -"

"I have no doubt that he'll enlighten them as to the error of that belief," Lowry pointed out, sounding amused. His expression softened when he saw the real concern on Pearson's face. "All other issues aside, Jack, Wolenczak is a good officer. He'll be all right. 'His grief he will not forget, but it will not darken his heart; it will teach him wisdom.'"

"Very philosophical, sir."

"I have my moments." Lowry waited a moment, then raised his eyebrows at Jack. "Was there something else, Commander Pearson?"

"Ah, no, sir. Thank you."

"Any time." Pearson started to exit, then hesitated again. "Admiral?"

"_Yes_, Pearson?"

"Rumor has it that Sigma Team will be using _seaQuest _as its new base of operations."

"Rumor is correct."

"Will you be sending a mission coordinator with them?"

Lowry set down his pen, catching and holding Pearson's gaze. "Lieutenant Callahan volunteered for the assignment. Since Commander Wolenczak voiced no preference as to which mission coordinator he wanted to work with, I'm sending her."

Jack hoped that his shock wasn't written across his face.

"Of course, sir. I'll let you get back to work now. Thank you."

Jack slipped quickly out of the room and down the stairs, headed for his lab and its secure vidcomset. Wolenczak, idiot that he was, had stopped playing the spy game when he declined to request a specific MC, and now he was about to pay the price. Jack could at least warn him about Callahan before she arrived on _seaQuest _and started making his life miserable.


	25. Chapter 25

016. So they both lived, delighting in their own devices, and feared no assault, nor wrath, nor any end of their wickedness.

* * *

"So Bourne's goal is what? World domination?" Bridger shook his head, disbelieving. "It's like something out of a comic book."

Lucas shrugged. They were sitting in the wardroom, at the end of yet another double shift of upgrading the boat's systems. Lucas had been looking a little run down over the past few days, and Bridger suspected that he was working more than just the double shifts that the two of them and Hitchcock had been covering. It made sense; presumably, his job with the Intelligence Security Division hadn't ended just because the Navy had loaned him to Bridger to help upgrade the _seaQuest_. Regardless, the dark circles under his eyes made Bridger wish he could still order the boy to bed like he used to.

Right now he was draped over one of the chairs in the wardroom, long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms resting loosely at his sides. He looked as relaxed as Bridger had seen him since before the _seaQuest _disappeared. The captain had asked him for an informal assessment of the situation that had led to the war, and Lucas was supplying him with a wealth of information peppered with a little of his trademark dry wit, which Bridger suspected not many people got to hear anymore. The new Lucas was far more reserved; it was rare to even catch him smiling, let alone joking around with Bridger or the crew like he used to. It was sobering for Bridger to see how Lucas had changed, and he often wondered what the young man must have gone through during the years that the _seaQuest_ had been missing.

"Bourne wants to run the world. He's just like every other power-mad dictator in the history books."

"And General Stassi?"

"Where Bourne is devious, Stassi is flat-out dangerous." Something in his eyes changed, and Bridger got the feeling that of the two, Stassi was the one Lucas disliked more. "He's Bourne's right hand man. He'd slit his own mother's throat if Bourne ordered him to."

"So he's a good soldier."

The look on Lucas's face at the subtle dig was priceless, but it only lasted a moment and then he was back to his own indecipherable 'good-soldier' expression.

"He's not what he appears," Lucas replied at last, and that was all he would say on the subject. Eventually Bridger started asking about the ramifications of the _seaQuest_'s return, both because he needed to know and because if he hadn't changed the subject, he might have lost the easy rapport he was currently sharing with Lucas. He'd started to stiffen up the first time Stassi had been mentioned, and Bridger's little quip about being a good soldier had taken some of the camaraderie out of the room's atmosphere.

"Bourne has to be furious that _seaQuest_ is back," Lucas told Bridger. "He'll see it as a huge stumbling block. _seaQuest_ could keep him from expanding his little empire past its current borders."

"I gather that the UEO hasn't had much luck with that so far."

"We haven't had the support from the other confederations that you would expect. The North Sea Confederation has been embroiled in some political scandals of its own, and many of the smaller confederations have been using the ostrich method of defense."

"Sticking their heads in the sand," Bridger interpreted. "And meanwhile, Bourne and Stassi are chipping away at the edges of their borders, taking all the little bits for themselves."

"And so they both lived," Lucas agreed with a sigh. "Delighting in their own devices, and feared no assault, nor wrath, nor any end of their wickedness."

"Until now."

Lucas was visibly caught off guard by Bridger's rebuttal.

"Until now," he agreed finally, and they shared a brief smile that made Bridger's heart leap. The old Lucas was still in there somewhere. Now he just had to figure out how to bring him to the surface again.


	26. Chapter 26

This story has officially passed the halfway point of the 50 Passages challenge! Here's hoping it doesn't take another three years to get to the end…

* * *

013. The dark water boiled, and there was a hideous stench.

* * *

The mess hall was deserted at this late hour. Tim O'Neill crept quietly through the darkened serving area, feeling like a criminal as he slipped through the door marked 'Authorized Personnel Only'. The guilty look on Hitchcock's face when the door opened told him he wasn't the only one uncomfortable with the meeting spot that had been chosen.

"Tim! Glad you could make it!"

"Shh," he hissed, very aware of the fact that none of them were supposed to be where they were. "Could you keep it down, Krieg? If we get caught back here -"

"Then what? Is _Commander _Wolenczak going to hang us for treason?" That was Brody, who clearly still wasn't over the jaw incident.

"Brody," Hitchcock began, her tone sharp, and Krieg held up a hand to interrupt the bickering.

"People, please. This is supposed to be a pleasant get-together, remember?" He leaned against the counter. "Just a nice, friendly, secretive late-night gathering to try and figure out what's going on with Lucas. I've even preempted some of the culinary supplies to make you all some of my world-famous Tahitian blend coffee."

Hitchcock rolled her eyes at her ex-husband. "Ben, your coffee looks, smells, and tastes like motor oil. No one in their right mind would drink it."

Krieg looked offended, and a quick glance at O'Neill and Brody garnered little support.

"Fine," he said, miffed. "More for me."

As if on cue, the coffee pot made a low grumbling noise. The dark water boiled and there was a hideous stench.

"Disgusting," Hitchcock muttered, and moved over toward O'Neill.

"Where's Ortiz?"

"He drew the short straw; he's taking the double shift on sensors tonight," O'Neill supplied, and Brody sighed.

"Fine. I guess we're all here, then. Krieg, you wanted to talk, so talk."

"I don't see why we have to be here," Hitchcock interrupted. "There are plenty of public places on this boat -"

"All of which Wolenczak probably has bugged," Brody informed her darkly. "Do you really want Big Brother to know we're talking about him?"

"If he's Big Brother, then what's Callahan?" O'Neill looked around at his shipmates. "She shows up here with literally half a day's notice and brings a whole team of commandos with her, and she looks at everyone onboard like she's just waiting for an excuse to slit our throats. If you ask me, we should be more worried about her than anything else."

Lieutenant Callahan had made a significant impression on the _seaQuest _crew. They were all terrified of her, although probably only half of them would have admitted it out loud. It wasn't that she was all that physically imposing, but O'Neill was right; it was something about the way she looked at them, like they were ants at a picnic and she was trying to decide the best way to go about squashing them.

"I don't think Lucas likes her."

Ben gave Katie a questioning look. "What makes you say that?"

"I saw them together earlier in one of the launch bays. She was asking him a question and he seemed irritated to be talking to her." She shrugged then. "As irritated as he ever seems these days, anyway."

"That's what I'm talking about," Krieg told them all. "Lucas doesn't talk to us anymore. He doesn't tell us anything."

Katie felt a wave of sympathy for Krieg's position. In the two weeks since they'd been back aboard _seaQuest_, they'd all noticed how different Lucas had become. Some of it was to be expected, given that they'd been gone for ten years and he undoubtedly still harbored some hard feelings about being left behind, despite the fact that they hadn't deserted him on purpose. He seemed like an entirely different person now, though, and it was hitting Ben harder than the rest of them. Ben Krieg had been a big brother figure to Lucas, had been the boy's unofficial mentor in all the ways that Bridger couldn't. It was Ben who'd given him advice on girls, who he'd gone to when his first relationship started to get serious, and who'd guided him through much of the awkwardness of being a teenage boy surrounded by adults. Now he had shut Ben out completely, and no matter how much the morale officer pretended to be unaffected, Katie knew it had to hurt him. He was far more sensitive than most people realized.

"He's lived through a war," Katie pointed out, as gently as she could. "And he didn't have any of us there to support him. I'm sure he still resents us for not being there for him."

"I feel terrible about it." That came from Tim, who'd been sitting quietly on one of the stools next to the counter. "I can't imagine what it must have been like for him. I mean, we all know he never had any support from his parents. We were the only family he had, and suddenly we were all gone."

"But we're here now," Krieg argued. "We're _here_, and we want to help him, and he won't let us."

"I think we just have to give him time," Katie said. "He's been on his own for ten years. We can't expect him to fall back into the same relationships he had with us overnight."

Ben exhaled heavily and Katie gave his shoulder a surreptitious squeeze. Patience had never been one of his strong suits, and she knew it was killing him that his 'little brother' was treating him with such aloofness.

"What does Bridger have to say about it?" Brody asked, and Ben frowned.

"He doesn't exactly confide in me, Jim," he replied. "And where Lucas is concerned, I think it's unlikely that he's going to tell any of us anything he might find out. If he can get Lucas to trust him, he won't risk damaging that trust by talking to us."

Brody started to respond, but Tim held up a hand for quiet. They all fell silent, but after several moments Ben gave Tim a quizzical look.

"I thought I heard something," Tim whispered. "I think someone's in the mess hall."

"Maybe we should turn out the light?" Katie murmured to Ben, who shook his head.

"That would just make us look guilty," he pointed out. "Besides, I don't hear anything."

He was contradicted half a second later, when the hatch opened with a loud clang to admit Lieutenant Callahan.

Krieg was the first to recover. "Lieutenant Callahan! What a surprise."

"I'll bet," she replied icily. "Let's see here. Lieutenant Krieg, Lieutenant O'Neill, Lieutenant Commander Hitchcock, and Lieutenant Brody. Late night staff meeting?"

"We were just leaving," Tim started to say, but a dismissive gesture from Callahan froze him in his tracks.

"You aren't going anywhere, Lieutenant."

"If he doesn't get some sleep, he'll be tired for his shift tomorrow morning," Krieg pointed out helpfully. If looks could kill, Callahan's would have decapitated him where he stood.

"If he doesn't tell me what's going on here, he'll have more pressing concerns than sleep deprivation."

"Going on?" Krieg echoed, as guileless as Katie had ever seen him. "Nothing's going on. Just a few friends grabbing some coffee."

"Please. Lieutenant O'Neill's expression alone is enough to prove to me that you're all guilty of something."

Tim, who'd never been particularly good at concealing his emotions, blushed furiously.

"Have you considered that he may just find you intimidating?" Brody pushed away from the counter, squaring his shoulders as he glared at Callahan. "Especially when you wander unannounced into restricted areas of the ship at all hours of the day and night."

"Let's talk about that, Lieutenant Brody." He was both taller and heavier than Callahan, but if anything, she seemed to find his threatening stance amusing. "Since you and your friends are also in a restricted area of the ship, and I assume you don't have any good reason to be here."

"We were making coffee," Krieg offered again, determinedly jaunty. "You know how it is. Middle of the night, everything's too quiet, you decide you just need a nice strong cup of joe -"

"So this isn't a secret meeting of an underground faction of the crew?" Callahan's smile was cruel, her expression hinting that there was nothing she would like more than to expose them as traitors. "A little get together of a couple of bridge officers who are unhappy with the way things are going around here? Because the galley would be quite the clever place to plan a coup. There are snacks on hand if treason makes you hungry, and it would be so simple to, say, poison some of the ingredients for tomorrow's breakfast. Eliminate a few of the loyal UEO officers standing between you and a position as Bourne's new favorite lapdog."

"It's an old _seaQuest _tradition."

The entire group turned with varying degrees of surprise to find Lucas standing in the doorway. While the others gaped at him, Krieg, who'd had the most experience at thinking on his feet to get himself out of trouble, grabbed the nearest empty mug and the coffee pot.

"Glad you could make it, Commander," he said, no trace of either fear or guilt in his tone, and Brody felt a grudging admiration for him. He always had been smooth under pressure. "Coffee?"

"Thank you," Lucas replied easily, taking the mug from Ben before turning to face Callahan. "If I'd known you were going to be starting your rounds so soon after coming aboard, Lieutenant, I would have given you a more thorough briefing on the ship's operations."

"Secret meetings of select members of the bridge crew in off-limits areas are considered standard ship's operations?" The scorn in her voice was thick, but Lucas responded as though the question hadn't been rhetorical.

"It's no secret. Lieutenant Krieg is the ship's morale and supply officer. Occasionally, he gets in a shipment of a specifically requested comestible item and offers to let some of the crew taste it after hours before it's put out for public consumption."

"So you expect me to believe that this is - what? Some sort of harmless coffee klatch?"

Lucas shrugged, visibly unconcerned. "What you believe isn't particularly important to me, Lieutenant." He took a sip of the coffee Ben had handed him, and Tim was impressed that he managed to keep a straight face when the vile brew hit his taste buds. "Hmm. Interesting bean selection, Lieutenant Krieg. Very piquant."

"Thank you, sir," Ben replied, all seriousness. "Commander Hitchcock picked it out."

"She has unique taste."

"I've always thought so."

Callahan had given up any pretense of civility toward Lucas, and was now glaring at him the same way she'd been glaring at the rest of them when he arrived.

"If you're protecting them, Commander, you'd be wise to stop, or when I figure out what they're planning you'll go down right along with them."

Lucas raised his eyebrows. "The uninitiated might take that as a threat, Lieutenant," he pointed out, with emphasis on her rank.

"I never make threats. Sir."

"Neither do I."

A brief staring contest ensued. Callahan blinked first, turning abruptly on her heel and stalking out of the mess hall. The _seaQuest _crew breathed sighs of relief, and Ben turned to Lucas.

"Man, Lucas, you showed up just in time -"

"This stops now." Lucas sounded as though he couldn't decide whether to be angry or disappointed. "Whatever nonsense you're planning? Whatever ridiculous idea possessed you to break into the galley after hours? It has to stop. It's going to get all of you killed, or worse." Noticing Brody's defiant expression, he added, "Believe me, you don't want to experience the 'or worse', and if Callahan decides you're working for Bourne, odds are that you will."

"You think she's going to drag us off to a secret UEO prison and have us tortured?"

Lucas's bland expression suggested that was exactly what he thought.

"The situation with the Macronesians is that bad." Katie shook her head in disbelief, talking mostly to herself. "No one on this boat is free from suspicion, are we?"

"That's why Callahan is here," Krieg said slowly as the pieces fell into place before his eyes. "She's not just in charge of her little group of commandos. She's spearheading a witch hunt for traitors."

Lucas inclined his head in Ben's direction, tacitly acknowledging the accuracy of his statement.

"I can't keep protecting you. Any of you."

"Can't? Or won't?"

He gave Brody a measured look. "Keep this up and it won't matter, Lieutenant. Semantics become unimportant when you're begging for mercy, and she doesn't exactly strike me as the merciful type." He turned to leave, then glanced back over his shoulder. "Dump out that toxic sludge you call coffee, Krieg. The cooks will know something's going on if they come in tomorrow morning and find a coffee pot with a fresh hole eroded through the bottom."

Without any further discussion, Lucas disappeared through the same door Callahan had used. Ben looked around at the others, who were all wearing similar shell-shocked expressions.

"Well, that could have gone better," he declared, and reached for the coffee pot again. "Anyone else want a cup?"


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Prompt 27 in chapter 27 - I think this is the first time they've matched!

* * *

027. All that is gold does not glitter.

* * *

Lucas sat in a chair in one of the old science labs aboard _seaQuest_, surveying his handiwork. The lab had originally belonged to Dr. Hanover, a virologist specializing in diseases of marine mammals, but he'd been one of the members of the science contingent who'd resigned his position on _seaQuest_ after realizing he'd somehow lost ten years of his life. The lab had been designed with potentially biohazardous experiments in mind, which was what had drawn Lucas to it initially. It sported a pair of inner and outer doors that created its own airlock and which had been easily retrofitted with retinal scanners, handprint readers, and a pair of sturdy keypad locks. Thanks to his modifications, the lab's only entrance was now as secure as anything in ISD headquarters.

The lab itself had been somewhat underwhelming, a dark and cavernous space boasting only a few lab benches and several old pieces of equipment that Hanover had left behind. It had promise, though, and as one of Sophie's favorite sayings went, all that is gold does not glitter. His first project inside the lab had been to scrub down every surface with the strongest disinfectant he could find. After that, he'd installed additional lighting and started rearranging the furniture inside to his liking. His vidscreen setup now faced a wall, so that all the camera could see was the desk in the corner. The rest of the room, which was outside of the camera's range, was lined with the lab benches that had previously been in the center of the space, most of them now cluttered with electronic equipment and tools. His own workbench was in the center of the room and currently held the disassembled pieces of a DX-180 medical diagnostic scanner he was trying to modify for field use. As an added perk, the lab even had its own small head attached to it, complete with shower, placed there in case there was ever a need to quarantine the occupants of the lab.

The real luxury he'd afforded himself was the bed. Another member of the science crew who'd resigned had at one point acquired a full-sized bed rather than the twin-sized bunks that were standard in _seaQuest_'s living quarters. That bed was now tucked into the far corner of the lab, the mattress sanitized and made up with fresh sheets to await his exhausted collapse onto it later that night. If the lab had come with a kitchen, he might have been tempted to seal himself inside and refuse to come out until the world regained some sense of normalcy.

He'd made it clear that he had no intention of allowing access to the lab to anyone else on the boat. As he was the ranking ISD officer aboard, the only person who could have demanded access from him was Bridger, but he got the feeling that the captain realized how much he needed to have a private space that was securely removed from Callahan's incessant probing and the crew's clumsy but well-intentioned attempts at digging into his past. He knew that the crew had started to refer to the lab as his 'secret lair' and engaged in wild speculation about what sorts of top secret things he might be keeping in there. They only did that behind his back, of course, but there were no secrets on submarines, and eventually he heard everything that went on aboard the boat. Contrary to Brody's opinion, he didn't have the whole boat bugged. There was no point in wasting resources that way when all he had to do was eat lunch in the mess hall for half an hour in order to overhear ninety percent of the day's gossip.

He could feel the beginnings of a headache, and he rubbed absently at the left side of his forehead. It didn't feel like one of the migraines that had plagued him since the grenade incident, though, and eventually he decided it was probably just tension. It might help if he gave himself a visual representation of all of his current sources of stress, so that he could figure out if there was anything he should be doing to alleviate some of it.

He grabbed a drafting pad and started to sketch out the web in which he was currently tangled. A dot representing him went in the center of the page, and he drew lines connecting him to external points representing each of his current headaches. It was a technique Jack had shown him for mapping out interrelated coding sequences in programs with intentional redundancy, but he'd found it helpful in complex real-life situations as well. Each point was a person or group, and the lines connecting them showed him which points were currently experiencing discord with one another.

_Callahan_, he labeled one point neatly in code, because the need for security had been drilled into him so many times that it was instinct by now. The next line he drew stretched from her dot across the page to the point he labeled _seaQuest crew_, who certainly weren't doing him or themselves any favors by continuing to rile her. He suspected some of them were doing it on purpose at this point; Krieg came to mind first, but he'd caught Ford exchanging a victorious look with Ortiz this morning after Callahan had stormed off the bridge. If the entire crew was embarking on some sort of plot to irritate Callahan, he was going to have to find some way to stop them before she decided to just start shooting them.

He connected her line to Jack's point as well. Jack had been a wealth of information about Callahan, who he identified as the craziest of all of his ex-girlfriends. It was a dubious distinction given Jack's penchant for unstable women. She was looking to make her career, and she'd apparently decided that unmasking the disappearance and subsequent reappearance of _seaQuest_ as a Macronesian plot was going to put her on the fast track to become the next head of ISD. From what Jack had told him, whether or not it was truly a Mac setup wasn't likely to matter much to her as long as making the crew look like traitors got her the recognition she desired.

He also connected her to the point for Sigma Team. The Sigmas were mostly an unknown quantity, since he'd never worked with them before. The only things he knew about them were that they were typically a 'floater' team, not assigned to any particular mission coordinator, and that Sophie had mentioned to him several times before everything had gone to hell that one of their snipers, Laughlin, might be a good addition to Zeta Team. He'd made it a point to meet Laughlin after Sigma Team had arrived, and while she'd been friendly toward him, she hadn't seemed any more thrilled to be working with Callahan than he was. He then drew a line from Sigma Team to the crew, knowing that they'd been briefed on the possibility of traitors aboard and were therefore a threat to his friends.

The web became increasingly tangled as he continued to sketch in conflict after conflict, adding Sophie and Zeta Team and the Macronesians to the web. Eventually the little dot representing him was completely lost in the myriad of overlapping lines, which was appropriate given how lost he was feeling. It was also a sobering visual representation of a truth he'd already realized: he was currently in the center of a maelstrom, and if he set a foot out of line in any direction, it could cost someone their life.

Sophie had told him once that being a good ISD operative didn't mean making the right choice, because often there wasn't only one right choice. All it took was figuring out what the wrong choice was and not making that one.

"What do you do when they're all wrong choices?" he demanded of his workbench. Unsurprisingly, it offered him no solutions. He looked again at his sketch, at his dot overwhelmed by the sheer volume of strife surrounding it, and shook his head.

He was going to have to stick with the choice he'd made. He'd follow the guidelines Sophie had set for him long before they'd known the _seaQuest _would return. He would be icily polite to his friends and enemies alike, and keep from giving anyone an emotional edge that they could use against him. He felt honor bound to do his best to cover for the _seaQuest_ crew, to protect them as much as he could from Callahan's version of the Spanish Inquisition, but he was going to have to do it quietly if he wanted to keep his persona intact.

He trailed his fingers over the jumbled lines on the paper and wished fervently that he had someone he could trust to help him sort out this mess. For a moment, he actually considered going to Bridger as he had so many times in the past. The captain was as good at keeping secrets as any ISD operative, and he might see a solution that Lucas had missed. When it came down to it, though, Lucas simply couldn't take the risk of confiding in him. In addition to breaking a dozen ISD rules and skirting the edge of treason, it would also put Bridger in danger. He was going to have to figure this out on his own.

At least for tonight he could return to his work on the DX-180 and avoid having to deal with it. Circuit boards and soldering irons would never desert him or betray him, and they didn't ask anything of him that he couldn't provide. It didn't escape his sense of irony that now, as the 'old and jaded' ISD officer he'd once joked about becoming, he was finally proving Sophie right. In his isolated lab, locked safely away from the _seaQuest _crew and Callahan and the question of whether Sophie and Zeta Team were even still alive, he found the cold comfort she'd predicted he would in the form of his electronic toys.


	28. Chapter 28

043. My lord, you called me. I come.

* * *

Katie Hitchcock tugged absently at the sleeve of her sweater, watching as Lucas Wolenczak disappeared into the bar at the end of the street. She wasn't quite sure what she was doing, or what had possessed her to follow him here. She'd been shopping in one of the little open-air markets near the port in Sri Lanka where _seaQuest _had docked for resupply and a 72-hour furlough for the crew, and she'd spotted Lucas across the square. Impulsively, she'd followed him, taking care not to get close enough that he'd notice he had a tail. He seemed lost in thought, though, and during the five-minute walk he didn't once look back and see her there.

The real question was, what was she going to do now? She was still close enough to the port that she could turn back around and meet up with Henderson and Dr. Smith at the restaurant where the three of them had planned to have dinner. If she went inside the bar, probably all she would learn was what sort of alcohol Lucas preferred. She didn't have any reason to believe that continuing to watch him would tell her anything worth missing a girls' night over.

_What the hell_, she decided, ignoring the little voice that told her this was a bad idea. There was no law against a couple of shipmates ending up in the same bar on shore leave. In fact, it was bound to happen more often than not. There was no way he'd know that she'd specifically followed him here to satisfy her own curiosity.

Squaring her shoulders, Katie headed into the bar.

* * *

It took her a minute to find Lucas; he was sitting down toward the end of the bar, alone, with a glass of amber-colored liquor in front of him. She plastered a determined smile on her face and went over to join him, sliding onto the empty bar stool to the left of his.

He looked over to see who the new arrival was, and she had a moment to enjoy his shocked expression before his eyes narrowed into a glare and she realized she might have overstepped her bounds.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded quietly, teeth clenched, and she resisted the urge to pull away from his anger.

"It's a public bar, Lucas," she said instead. "I have every right to be here."

His expression said otherwise, and he cast a quick look around the bar before returning his attention to her.

"You need to leave. Now."

"We're both off duty and you have no business telling me what to do."

"Keep your voice down," he hissed. "I don't give a damn what you do off duty, Katie. Go out and get plastered in whatever bar you want; I don't care. You just can't be _here_ right now."

She thought about arguing again, but his blue eyes had gone cold and remote as a glacier, and she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature in the bar.

"I'll go," she said slowly. She started to rise, but his hand on her shoulder pinned her in her seat.

"It's too late for that," he said quietly, and in his tone she could hear the curses he didn't bother to voice. "If you leave now, you'll be followed."

"Followed -" she began, and his fingers tightened painfully on her shoulder.

"Katie_, shut up_."

Hearing him say her name like that quieted her where nothing else could have, and she stared mutely at the surface of the bar. She'd never heard that tone from Lucas before; a tone that said she was an idiot child who'd gotten herself into a situation she would never manage to get out of by herself.

"Do exactly what I tell you. Just - just sit there, look disinterested, don't talk, don't mention my name, don't _fidget_, and if the taller guy starts flirting with you, glare at him like you're half a second from biting off his nose."

* * *

Lucas was cursing himself furiously. He should have known that one of the _seaQuest _crew, consumed as they were with curiosity about him, might decide to follow him here. He should have been watching for tails, but he'd been so preoccupied with the thought of having to meet up with Sophie's contacts that it hadn't occurred to him that one of his own people might be following him. Now, not only was he going to have to meet with Pike and Smith without Sophie there to do the talking, he was also going to have to explain Hitchcock's presence and hope the double agents didn't decide it was too risky and take off before giving him the intelligence he'd come for.

Smith and Pike were already there; they'd walked in while he was still trying to get rid of Katie. They'd taken seats at one of the tables on the other side of the bar, and now Lucas signaled them the all-clear.

Pike approached first, waving the bartender over as he stepped up to the bar next to Lucas.

"Two beers," he told the bartender, who gave him a nod of acknowledgement but continued to put together the drink order for the large group of tourists by the door. Pike then looked over at Lucas and Katie, giving Katie a once-over before speaking.

"Friend of yours?"

"Yes. You'll like her. She's the silent type."

Katie watched the exchange impassively, keeping Lucas's instructions in mind. Meanwhile, Pike looked her over again, then glanced back over at Smith, who got up and came to join them. He must have signaled Smith that he agreed with Lucas's all-clear, since the shorter man smiled as he approached them, and gave a mocking half-bow to Lucas.

"My lord, you called me. I come."

"Glad you could make it." Lucas raised his glass to both of them. "Both of you. It's been a while."

"It's also been a while since I ordered those beers," Pike said, eyeing the bartender with irritation before returning his gaze to Katie. "Hey, what about you, beautiful? You look like you could use a drink."

That was the tall one, and he was currently eyeing her like she was a dessert offering. Remembering Lucas's instructions, she turned the full force of her iciest glare on him, and was rewarded when he actually took a step back.

"Ouch. I don't think your lady likes me, Steel. She's got a glare that rivals yours."

"Why would you try to flirt with someone else's date?" Lucas replied easily, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"Can't blame me for trying." The bartender brought over beers for the two men and was gone again in moments, and Pike took a swig of his before continuing. "Quite frankly, I'm surprised you moved on so quickly."

Lucas went still. Katie, feeling the sudden change in the atmosphere from friendly to something darker, resisted the urge to shift in her seat. His instructions had been clear about not fidgeting.

"We heard what happened to Blondie."

Lucas took another sip of his whiskey, his grip on the glass tight enough that it was a miracle it didn't shatter under the force.

"Did you."

It wasn't a question, but the taller man answered him anyway.

"It's a shame." He looked like he might say more, then shook his head and fell silent. The other man glanced at him, then spoke.

"We're out, Steel. Both of us." He reached out to shake Lucas's hand. "We really just stopped by to say _adieu_. We've had enough of the war."

Lucas stared at them for a long moment, then chuckled dryly. "How long have you been waiting for her to be replaced as your contact so that you could resign?"

"Oh, months," the taller man said fervently. "I was almost to the point of telling her myself, even though I was sure she'd shoot me. It's getting so bad over there that it might have been worth it."

"You didn't think I'd shoot you?"

The shorter man clapped Lucas on the shoulder. "You're a man of reason, Steel. Only a fool or a fanatic wouldn't be able to understand why we're deserting, with things they way they are now."

Sophie had been a fanatic, which was why they'd been reluctant to leave while she was their UEO contact. Pike was right; Lucas understood full well why the two men were deserting the Macronesian military. Bourne was becoming more erratic and more megalomaniacal than he'd been even six months ago, and some of the reports he'd heard confirmed that Stassi seemed to be going off the deep end just like his boss.

"There are plenty of people who aren't ready to leave, though," Smith added, with a significant glance at Lucas. "Old friends of ours. Maybe you'll run into one of them someday."

The edges of the microdisc Smith had slipped him dug into his palm, and he understood the unspoken message perfectly. Along with the intelligence he'd requested, that disc contained the names of some of Smith and Pike's people within the Macronesian military who might be useful to him as double agents. He was pleased and a little flattered that they'd gone to the trouble to get him the names of those other Macronesian officers who were unhappy with the current state of affairs.

"Well, good luck to you, gentlemen," Lucas told them, and meant it. Pike and Smith had been invaluable to Sophie and Zeta Team over the past few years, and if they were finally getting themselves out of the madness that this war had become, he wished them nothing but the best. "Whoever you are."

Smith and Pike both grinned, and Pike tossed enough cash onto the bar to cover their drinks and his.

"Same to you," Smith said with feeling, and they both headed out the way they'd come.

Katie sat in silence for a long moment, processing what had just happened. Lucas had returned his attention to the glass of whiskey in front of him and didn't seem inclined to give her any hints about who those men had been or what any of that had been about.

"They're Macronesian," she said finally, her inflection turning it into a question. He looked over at her then, and she was startled to see a glint of actual humor in his eyes.

"At least you followed instructions until they left the bar."

"That's why you didn't want me here? Because you were meeting up with - what? A couple of undercover agents?"

"Something like that," he agreed, not bothering to enlighten her as to the differences between an undercover operative and a double agent. Pike and Smith hadn't been placed into the Macronesian military by the UEO, they'd been dissatisfied Macronesian military officers who'd been cultivated as assets and turned into double agents by Sophie years ago.

"Is that where you get your information?" she persisted. "How many people does the UEO have inside their military?"

"Hopefully more than they have in ours," Lucas pointed out, draining the glass of whiskey. "Come on. I'll walk you back to port."

She slid off the barstool, taking his proffered arm with pleased surprise. Maybe this bizarre little interlude had been worth the trouble if he was starting to warm back up to her again.

As they left the bar, he pulled her a little closer so that he could murmur into her ear.

"Mention this meeting to anyone, ever, and I'm going to have to kill you."

Or maybe not.

* * *

The woman who was currently known as Helen Wilson tossed several spare uniforms into a duffel bag, making a face at the red-and-black uniform shirt used by the Macronesian military. She didn't care for red in general, and the uniforms were itchy, adding insult to injury.

She'd spent over a month securing a fake set of orders designating her the supply officer in charge of doing a two-week supply inventory at Thomenstal Correctional Facility, a Macronesian prison which had been converted nearly two years ago into one of the prison camps where the Macronesians stashed the UEO personnel they captured. She'd gotten confirmation that a team of covert operatives who'd been recently captured were being housed here, and it hadn't been until she'd finally arrived that she'd learned they were actually one of the missing Section Seven teams, which had thrown a substantial wrench into her plans.

With a little more finagling, she'd arranged to be sent on after that inventory to the next prison on her list, an underwater facility where the Macronesians prided themselves on keeping their most dangerous and sensitive political prisoners. She was confident that Helen Wilson's documentation would hold up through any background checks they might run on it before they let her into that prison, since her partner had been the one to create this particular identity and he was impressively detail-oriented. Right now she was trying not to think about how much harder this would become if Zeta Team wasn't being held in that facility either.

She blew a strand of dark hair out of her face, straightening her shoulders. If she allowed the possibility of failure to enter her mind, that would be akin to opening the door and inviting it in for tea. Failure was not an option, so she refused to consider it. She was going to find Zeta Team, come up with a plan to break them out of one of the most secure underwater facilities in the world, and get them safely home, and then she was going to dye her damned hair back to its normal color and throw away the colored contact lenses that were an integral part of her disguise. They were designed to alter any scan of her retinal pattern, which was handy, but they left her eyes feeling like they'd been rubbed raw with sandpaper.

Maybe her escape plan would involve the _seaQuest_. She'd heard the rumors; all the Macronesian soldiers had. She'd also wined and dined and empathically influenced a minor official who happened to be an attaché of Bourne's, and had learned that not only was _seaQuest _back and patrolling the Macronesian border, but Stassi was enraged because some UEO covert ops division had posted a team onboard and rumor had it that they were gunning specifically for him.

It had to be Lowry's idea, which meant that the team was ISD. And if Lowry were going to assign anyone to _seaQuest_…

Yes, that was probably the best plan for a prison break. _seaQuest _was the boat that Bourne and Stassi were currently most afraid of, and with Wolenczak certain to be aboard, she'd have backup she could count on.

For the first time in weeks, the woman called Helen Wilson felt a genuine smile tugging at her lips. Maybe the end was finally in sight.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: I underestimated how incredibly long it would take to write this chapter, so it's coming in two parts. I'll do my best to make sure that part two is worth the wait.

* * *

042. Yet I would not have you remain like a beggar at the door.

* * *

It was a typical day aboard _seaQuest_, or at least as typical as things ever were. Katie Hitchcock was having lunch in the mess hall with Brody, Henderson, and Krieg. Lucas was in the gym with Callahan and Sigma Team, practicing disarmament techniques. Bridger and Ford were both on the bridge, enjoying the relative peace of the moment, when Tim O'Neill's voice broke the silence.

"Captain? I'm getting something over here."

Bridger looked over at O'Neill, who had one hand pressed to the earpiece of his comset.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"I'm not sure, sir," he confessed. "It sounds electronic, but the pitch is strange."

"Pipe it through to the bridge speakers."

O'Neill obeyed, and he and Bridger exchanged a puzzled look as the high-pitched whining sound echoed through the room.

"That's very odd, Lieutenant," Bridger said slowly. "Commander Ford? Any thoughts?"

Ford looked bemused. "I don't hear anything, sir."

That earned him a swift glance from Bridger. "You don't hear that, Commander? That high-pitched noise?"

"No, sir," he said, looking over at Ortiz to find the sensor chief equally befuddled. "Ortiz?"

"I don't hear anything, sir," he admitted. Bridger turned to the pilot, Ellers, but before he could ask him about the noise it increased abruptly in volume, sending Bridger and O'Neill to their knees in agony. Then there was a pulse of searing white light, and then -

Nothing.

"Captain? Captain!" Ford shouted, dropping down next to Bridger's prone form. Ortiz had run to help O'Neill, who'd collapsed at his station. Ford grabbed his PAL, opening a line to Sickbay. "This is Commander Ford. I need a medical team to the bridge now. Captain Bridger and Lieutenant O'Neill are unresponsive."

He was expecting to hear Wendy Smith, but instead he got one of the med techs, who sounded as shaken as he felt. "I'm sending a team, Commander, but Dr. Smith just collapsed in Sickbay."

"What?"

"We're getting calls from all over the boat, sir. Whatever is going on, it's affecting multiple people."

Ford exchanged a worried look with Ortiz. "Keep me informed. And get a team to the bridge ASAP."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

The last thing Lucas remembered was disarming Petty Officer Hardy with a duck-and-swing maneuver he'd learned from Jack Pearson, and then he was waking up on the floor. He would've suspected that Hardy had gotten in a good punch, but he didn't actually hurt anywhere and the floor his face was currently pressed against wasn't the gym floor they'd been fighting on.

His next clue that this was more complex than getting hit with a lucky punch was a groan from behind him. He pushed himself to his feet and turned to find Tim O'Neill lying on the ground several feet from him. The room was dark, and he could barely make out several more shadowed figures beyond Tim's.

Lucas reached out a hand and pulled the other man to his feet.

"Thanks," Tim said, sounding rattled. "That was weird. Where are we?"

Lucas started to reply that he didn't know, but at that moment his brain finally put the pieces together and he realized why this room seemed familiar.

"We're in trouble," he said instead, shaking his head as he went over to help the others still sprawled on the ground. Now that he had at least a vague idea of what was going on, it was the work of half a second for him to turn on the lights in the room simply by concentrating on it. The bright lights seemed to revive the others, and several minutes later they were all sitting in a rough circle on the bare floor, staring expectantly at Lucas.

Lucas was sitting with Bridger on one side and Petty Officer Laughlin on the other, and Wendy, Tim, and Ben completed the little group. Lucas was relatively unsurprised to see Bridger, Tim, and Wendy, and most ISD teams had at least one member who had some psi talent, but Ben Krieg's presence startled him. He'd had no idea that Ben had any psychic ability.

"Lucas?" Bridger's voice was soft, as though something about the heavy silence in the room required hushed tones. "What's going on?"

In response, he looked over at Laughlin. "Petty Officer, has your team heard anything about the Macronesians developing psychic weapons?"

She nodded, pale at the thought. "Yes, sir. Rumor has it that they're working on a psychic pulse weapon that could force people to divulge classified information by exposing their memories."

"They've been making a mess of it," Lucas said bluntly. "Their research has been blunder after blunder, including one spectacular screw-up a few months ago where they put sixteen of their own people into irreversible comas."

"Do you think they tried to use one of those weapons against _seaQuest_?"

Lucas nodded at Bridger. "And in any other situation, it might have actually worked, or it might have burned out the brains of everyone aboard with any psychic ability. However, ISD thought it would be prudent for operatives with significant amounts of classified knowledge to be protected against such a weapon, in the vastly unlikely event that the Macs ever figured out what the hell they were doing."

"I'm not following you," Ben said slowly. "What does this have to do with why we're sitting in someone's basement?"

"Because it's the basement of my apartment building," Lucas replied, ignoring the others' confused expressions. "As a senior intelligence coordinator, most of what I deal with on a daily basis is classified. I was one of the first people to undergo placement of the protection that ISD and the Chatton Institute came up with."

Wendy seemed to understand where he was going with this, probably because she'd dealt with Chatton in the past.

"They put a cage matrix into your mind."

"Not exactly," Lucas replied. "They turned my mind _into _a cage matrix."

Wendy's expression was priceless, her mouth dropping open in an 'O' of surprise.

"That's impossible!"

"It was impossible ten years ago, Doctor. They've made significant progress since then."

Bridger cleared his throat. "I think the rest of us could use a more thorough explanation."

"A cage matrix is - it's a psychic trap, basically," Wendy replied, still sounding shaken. "Anyone trying to pry into Lucas's mind would be pulled into a specific memory and caged there, unable to escape."

"I think one of those pulse weapons hit _seaQuest_," Lucas told them, sounding grim. "And I think that Chatton may have been a little overzealous with the parameters for the cage matrix, because instead of each of you being knocked back into the recesses of your own minds by the pulse, you all ended up in my head. Inside the cage."

The group processed that for a moment. Ben, predictably, was the first to respond.

"So your mind mistook us for the enemy, and now all of our minds are trapped in a psychic representation of your laundry room?"

"I have a storage unit down here, too," Lucas pointed out. "When they asked me to pick a place to represent the cage, this seemed fitting."

"How do we get out?" Tim demanded, and Lucas shrugged.

"I know how_ I_ get out," he said. "The lock for the cage matrix is triggered by a specific set of memories, accessed in sequence. All I have to do is re-watch a few of my own memories in a predetermined order and I can get out. I also know that if I let myself out, whoever is still inside the cage is permanently trapped. What I don't know is what will happen if I try to take you with me."

"So in order to get out, sir, we'd have to - um -"

"You'd be going on a guided tour of the inside of my head, Petty Officer," Lucas acknowledged. "I'd certainly prefer not to have all of you wandering around in there with me. Some of what you'll see is classified, and some of it…" He shook his head then, knowing exactly which memories they'd be seeing if they came with him. "Some of it I'd rather not share."

"If you can't have us with you, Lucas," Wendy began, sympathetic to his predicament, and he sighed.

"There's no guarantee that it will even work, Doctor. For all I know, you may end up stuck here regardless." He glanced around the circle then, at the worried expressions on his crewmates' faces. "Yet I would not have you remain like a beggar at the door, permanently trapped in my psychic laundry room, without at least trying to get you out. I think we have to give it a shot."

"Dr. Smith?" the captain asked, but Wendy was nodding slowly.

"I think he's right, Captain. If he has an escape route built into the cage matrix, theoretically it should accommodate all of us. If we stay here, we're definitely trapped."

"So what do we do?" Bridger looked from Lucas to Wendy and back. "How do we see these memories?"

"That's the easy part." Despite his words, Lucas was visibly tense. "All I have to do is remember."

* * *

Ford had called a senior staff meeting in the wardroom to discuss the situation. Katie and Jim looked tense, and Dr. Horowitz, who was now the acting senior physician in Sickbay, was practically squirming in his seat. Across from him, Callahan was giving all of them a look that clearly said she suspected all of this was some sort of treasonous plot. He would have greatly preferred to have Lucas at this meeting, but Lucas was currently unconscious in Sickbay along with five other members of the crew.

"Doctor, what's the status of our injured crewmembers?"

"I wouldn't say injured, exactly, Commander," Horowitz hedged. "Their exams and their labs are all normal. They're simply unresponsive to any external stimuli."

"O'Neill and Bridger mentioned hearing a high-pitched noise just prior to collapsing. Did any of the others mention anything similar?"

"That's interesting," Horowitz said slowly. "Dr. Smith mentioned seeing a pattern of lights just before she collapsed. That's why she was sitting when she lost consciousness; I thought it might be an aura preceding a seizure or a migraine, so I insisted she sit down."

"Ben was with us," Katie said, gesturing to Brody. "He didn't say he'd heard or seen anything strange."

"He did mention that the food tasted weird," Brody offered. "It _is_ the mess hall, though, so that might not mean anything."

"Lieutenant Callahan?" Ford asked, and the brunette shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"Neither Commander Wolenczak nor Petty Officer Laughlin mentioned anything unusual. I do find it suspicious that out of the entire complement of this crew, two of the six people affected are members of the Intelligence Security Division."

"You find everything suspicious," Brody muttered, and winced when Hitchcock kicked him in the shin.

"I think the possibility that this may be some sort of attack needs to be considered," Callahan persisted, and Ford exhaled heavily.

"All right, Lieutenant. Your concerns are noted, but at this point in time we don't have any proof that this was anything other than a random event. If you can find some evidence that some sort of foul play occurred, I'll be happy to entertain the notion further."

"What do we do in the meantime, Commander?"

"For now, we wait."


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: This chapter is over six thousand words and contains angst, plot development, and karaoke. I fear I may have outdone myself this time. The song used in the last scene is_ La Javanaise_, by Madeleine Peyroux, and I can't recommend it highly enough. The lyrics are beautiful both in French and translated into English.

* * *

007. We believe that we may meet again in a time to come, and perhaps we shall find somewhere a land where can live together and both be content.

* * *

Tim wasn't sure what to expect as the first memory began to play. It was like watching a vid on a set of VR goggles, the scene completely surrounding them. They were in the desert, the sun beating mercilessly down on them, and several feet in front of them a woman was lying on the ground holding a sniper rifle. The man next to her was Lucas, except he was wearing fatigues and his hair was significantly shorter. Present-day Lucas was standing next to Wendy, so the Lucas next to the woman had to be part of the memory. He was also complaining bitterly about the weather, the situation, and the woman next to him, who was doing a superb job of ignoring him. All of her attention was focused on whatever she was seeing through the scope of her rifle.

"I guess this is probably some sort of classified mission," Tim observed, and Lucas nodded.

"Who's the hot blonde?" Ben wanted to know, and was immediately nailed by a withering glare; not from Lucas, like he'd expected, but from Petty Officer Laughlin. "Sorry. Was that sexist?"

"I'd imagine she cares less about sexism, Ben, and more about the part where you're currently objectifying one of the best officers that our division ever had."

"Yes, sir," Laughlin confirmed, still glaring at Ben. "Commander Sutton is a decorated war hero."

"And if she were here right now, she'd either have found that extremely funny or she would have shot out one of your kneecaps to make a point." At Ben's wide-eyed expression, Lucas shrugged. "She was always mercurial about things like that."

In front of them, the memory was slowly changing, the colors starting to fade and the landscape blurring. When Bridger pointed it out, Lucas shrugged again.

"I don't remember the end of this as clearly as I remember the beginning," he explained. "Maybe that has something to do with it.

_"We're blown. Sutton -"_

_"Ten seconds." _

The rapport of the rifle was startling in the silence, and then they could hear shouting coming from off in the distance.

_"We need to go!"_

_"I can get the other one." _

Tense silence, and then the memory version of Lucas swore loudly.

_"That's a grenade launcher -"_

Another beat of silence. Wendy, who'd grabbed blindly for Bridger when the first shot had been fired, tightened her grip on his arm.

_"Incoming!" Lucas shouted, and then he was moving, throwing himself on top of Sutton as the grenade hit the ground next to them. _

The explosion of the grenade and Sutton's second shot were simultaneous, the noise enough to deafen them as shrapnel went flying everywhere, and they all got the brief impression of pain and blood before the memory was abruptly gone.

Lucas felt more than heard a little click in the back of his head, telling him that the first part of the lock on the cage matrix had disengaged. The next memory was painful in a different way, and Lucas pulled it up with some trepidation. The world around them re-formed into the familiar surroundings of his old quarters on _seaQuest_.

He turned to find all of the others staring at him, their expressions revealing varying degrees of shock.

"That's how I got this scar," he said, suddenly weary from the questions in their eyes. "I took a piece of shrapnel to the head and another one to my leg. Sutton got me to safety, and then the rest of our team got us back to headquarters."

"Lucas, you saved her life."

"That time," he agreed bleakly, and returned his attention to the new memory that had started playing without any regard for their side conversation. A much younger version of him was on the vidscreen with his father, who was explaining why he was going to be absent for yet another of his son's birthdays.

_"We have shore leave, Dad. I can come to you. I just want to spend my birthday with my family."_

_"Be reasonable, Lucas," Lawrence Wolenczak said, sounding as harried as ever. "I have a million things going on right now. It's just not practical for me to take a day off at this point. Call your mother -"_

_"She's in France with her new boyfriend," Lucas replied, a little spitefully. He might as well not have bothered; his father hadn't cared about his mother's affairs even back when they'd been married. _

_"Then meet up with a friend or something. You have a credit card. Buy yourself whatever you want and say it's from me."_

_"But Dad-"_

_"Lucas, I have to go. I'll see you later."_

_The vid screen went dead, and Lucas flopped back onto his bed, sulking. It was only a minute or two before there was a knock at the hatch, and his sullen invitation to enter was followed by the appearance of Ben Krieg_.

"Hey, that's me," Ben pointed out unnecessarily.

_"Hey, Lucas."_

_"What do you want, Ben?" _

Bridger hadn't noticed it before, but the tone of voice that the younger Lucas had used when he was pretending not to care about something was similar to the tone that seemed to be the default for the present-day Lucas.

_"I know it's late notice and you might already have plans, but me and some of the guys were planning to go out to a bar in port tonight. It'll be me, Miguel, Tim - what do you say? It could be fun."_

_Lucas looked as though he was considering the idea. "Bridger won't let me," he said finally. Ben waived his hand airily, dismissing the suggestion. _

_"We don't have to tell Bridger," he declared. "It's not like we're going out robbing banks or something. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."_

Present-day Ben was studiously avoiding Bridger's gaze as the captain put his hands on his hips.

"Is that so, Lieutenant?"

"It was a little bit of harmless fun, Captain," Ben disclaimed. "And it was twelve years ago. Clearly the kid turned out okay regardless."

"I always wondered if you knew how much that meant to me." Lucas sounded introspective, watching as the memory version of himself grabbed his jacket and followed Krieg out for a night on the town. "You didn't have to invite me to do stuff with you and the other guys. I was younger than everyone else, I was the only civilian, and I was a smartass. I was in the way more often than not."

"That was never how we felt about it, Lucas," Krieg told him earnestly. "You were a good kid stuck in an unpleasant situation. We were just trying to help you have a little fun once in a while." He paused then, searching the recesses of his own memory. "You know, I remember that night. You never mentioned that it was your birthday. We would have done something special if we'd known."

Lucas smiled wryly. "And admit that my own family couldn't be bothered to spend time with me on my birthday? Not likely, Ben. It was more than enough for me that someone went out of their way to include me in their plans."

Ben and Tim exchanged a look. How often had they done that? And conversely, how often had they forgotten to invite Lucas along, or assumed that he'd have other plans with his friends, or decided they wanted to have a night with 'just the grown-ups'?

Lucas felt another click; this memory had run its course. He braced himself for the next one, which was one of two in the sequence that had been pleasant memories back when he'd picked them and which were now bittersweet at best.

It was a run-down little bar, with few patrons save the large group of people sitting toward the center of the room. The _seaQuest _crew only recognized Lucas and Sutton in the group, but Laughlin's gaze lingered on several of the others. Lucas motioned for all of them to take a seat at one of the empty tables near the group.

"This is a long memory," he explained. "We might as well get comfortable."

_"I'm still not sure why we're here, Sophie," Lucas said, sounding confused. "Usually teambuilding for us means we're out in the woods shooting at each other."_

_"Which you complain about constantly," she pointed out. "You keep telling me that there are ways to build team spirit that don't involve automatic weapons, so here we are."_

_"I meant like a ropes course or something," he informed her. "I'm sure I never mentioned team karaoke."_

_"And yet, here we are," she repeated, giving him an amused look. "Wallace and Jovasti are in charge of organizing the song list."_

_"You're not micromanaging it?"_

_"Do I look like I spend much time in karaoke bars? I delegated. I thought you'd be proud." _

_"I am proud."_

Lucas and Sophie shared a speaking glance, and Ben leaned over to the real Lucas.

"Is it supposed to be top secret that you're in love with this girl?" he murmured, his tone conspiratorial. "Because I've gotta tell you, Lucas, you don't hide it real well."

"It wasn't any more of a secret than anything else in our lives," he replied, his voice a little louder than Ben's, and Ben got the feeling he was saying it as much for his benefit as for Laughlin's, who'd been studiously pretending not to listen to them. "There's no rule in ISD forbidding relationships between partners. All they ask for is discretion."

_"Wallace, who's up first?"_

_One of the men checked the list in front of him. "That would be Kelson and Demarin, ma'am."_

_"What are they singing?" Lucas asked, trying and failing to picture the two burly men doing karaoke. _

_"It's a surprise, sir."_

_"Don't ruin it," Sophie advised, handing him one of the unopened beer bottles from the center of the table. "Drink that. Sit back and enjoy your teambuilding exercise."_

_"If this doesn't go well, I'm taking the blame, aren't I?" he asked, but it was a rhetorical question. Kelson and Demarin took the stage, and Lucas nearly snorted beer out his nose when the opening strands of an old Garth Brooks song started to play. _

_"Friends in Low Places?" he asked Jovasti, who shrugged. _

_"It seemed appropriate to the setting, sir."_

When Kelson and Demarin were finished, Wallace gestured to Sutton, and they spent several seconds in discussion before she turned back around to Lucas.

_"Let's go."_

_"Go where?" he asked, and was dismayed by the wicked glee in her expression. "You can't be serious."_

_"It's a teambuilding exercise," she pointed out again. "We have to participate."_

_"At least tell me what song they picked for us," he bargained. _

_"Don't worry. I told Wallace and Jovasti ahead of time that if they made the two of us sing a romantic ballad, the whole team would regret it for months."_

_"You think they listened?"_

_"I think they still regret the last time they pissed me off. They won't do it again."_

Ben leaned forward as the music started, catching Lucas's eye.

"'Don't Stop Believing'? Really?"

"Apparently, Wallace classed it as a power ballad, not a romantic ballad," he replied, his lips quirking into a reluctant smile. "Sophie checked his references the next day and decided to let it slide."

"Still. Journey?"

"Hey, that song is a classic," Tim pointed out from across the table. "It's one of the top five most requested karaoke songs of all time."

"I really don't want to know how you know that."

They watched as Lucas and Sophie sang the duet, Lucas looking happier than any of them had seen him since before the _seaQuest_'s disappearance.

"I didn't know you could sing," Ben said with interest.

"I'm not terrible," Lucas acknowledged. "I certainly wasn't the worst one that night. That honor went to Hallifeld."

"She was an expert dive navigator," Laughlin identified. "We were friends. We'd go out diving on the weekends, sometimes, when neither of our teams was on a mission."

"She was also tone deaf," Lucas said wryly. "And it turned out that she was pushing for the karaoke night as hard as Wallace was."

On the stage, he and Sophie were belting out the chorus of the song, and he felt a pang of loneliness. He hadn't realized how good he had it back then, and now that he knew it was too late. Sophie and Zeta Team were gone, maybe forever, and the only friends he had now were people who knew him as the person he'd been ten years ago.

"That thing about the romantic song - did your team know about the two of you?" Ben pressed.

Lucas shrugged. "Like I said, it wasn't a big secret. Besides, we couldn't have kept it from them even if we'd wanted to."

"No?"

"Zeta Team was one of the best covert operations teams in the world. It would've been hard for them to miss something so glaringly obvious about their own officers."

Their song complete, Lucas and Sophie returned to the table to the applause of their team. Hallifeld did a spirited if exceptionally off-key rendition of ABBA's 'Does Your Mother Know', and Tim gave Ben a pained look. Lucas was right; Hallifeld was bad.

After Hallifeld, Wallace went onstage himself, but he signaled Kelson before the music started. Kelson, in turn, offered Sophie his hand to dance. She looked momentarily bemused, but then the music started and, with a grin, she allowed him to sweep her out of her chair and onto the open dance floor.

The song was Dean Martin's 'Sway', and Wallace's deep voice was perfect for it. They were distracted from his singing, however, when Kelson and Sutton started to dance.

"Okay, they're _really _good," Tim said slowly, watching as the two of them made a complicated dance routine look effortless. At the other table, Lucas was echoing Tim's comment to Melahar.

_"I wouldn't have pictured Kelson as a dancer. They're impressive together."_

_"We did an undercover mission once, back before you joined the team. The two of them entered a dancing competition as part of their cover and they danced to this song."_

_Lucas watched as Kelson spun Sophie in an intricate move, her back arching gracefully as she moved. _

_"How'd they do?"_

_"They won. They beat out the couple that was our mark, and then after the award ceremony we arrested the couple for selling UEO secrets." Melahar grinned. "Kelson still has the trophy."_

The song ended, to riotous applause and wolf whistles from the team. Kelson and Sutton did an elaborate bow and curtsy and then added their own applause for Wallace. Jovasti, meanwhile, had taken over the responsibility of handing out song assignments.

_"Graham. Lennon. Go."_

Tim expected to see two people approach the stage, and realized belatedly as the music started that Graham was singing a John Lennon song.

_"Imagine there's no countries  
It isn't hard to do  
Nothing to kill or die for  
And no religion too."_

_"This is not a song I would have pictured him singing," Lucas told Sophie. That was a vast understatement, Graham being the member of their team most likely to one day go rogue and start blowing things up for the sheer joy of it. _

_"Imagine all the people  
Living life in peace."_

_"Imagine all of us out of a job," Sophie murmured to Lucas, who choked on a laugh. Nevertheless, she sang along with the chorus, and when Jovasti produced a handful of lighters he'd brought for this express purpose, she held hers up and swayed right along with the rest of the team. He was beginning to think he'd actually enjoy getting credit for tonight, even if karaoke hadn't been what he'd meant when he suggested a non-violent team bonding activity. _

Graham finished to a hearty round of applause, and Jovasti turned to Martinez to inform her that it was her turn. She initially declined to go, and Jovasti barely had time to start arguing with her before Sutton got involved.

_"This is a mandatory teambuilding exercise, Martinez."_

_"I'm not big on singing in public, ma'am."_

"She's terrified," Wendy said, unable to keep silent in the face of the woman's distress.

"She was always afraid of public speaking," Laughlin replied. "Jenny Martinez and I were in Basic together. She was at the top of the class, but she nearly washed out when they made her give a speech in front of the whole base."

"Surely you wouldn't make her do this if she didn't want to." Wendy looked expectantly at Lucas, who raised his eyebrows at her.

"Petty Officer Martinez was part of a team, Dr. Smith. Everybody on the team has to do their job, regardless of the situation."

Several feet away from them, Sophie was saying more or less the same thing to Martinez.

_"Stage fright?"_

_Martinez was looking down at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap. _

_"Yes, ma'am."_

_"Look at me." When Martinez's eyes met hers, Sophie nodded. "I've seen you face life and death situations without flinching, Martinez. There's no way I'm letting a karaoke bar get the best of you. We are the most elite team in the UEO. We don't acknowledge fear. Fear is a luxury reserved for civilians."_

_"Yes, ma'am," Martinez replied dutifully, but she didn't sound convinced. _

_"We're also the _best _team in the UEO, and we take care of our own. If you don't want to get up there by yourself, then you don't have to." Sutton glanced across the table. "Melahar. Hallifeld. The three of us are going to assist Petty Officer Martinez in the pursuit of her objective."_

_"Yes, ma'am," the two other female members of the team chorused, and together the four of them got onstage as the opening notes of 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' started to play. Martinez was initially hesitant, her movements stiff, but being up there with her teammates seemed to help, and by the end of the song she was singing along with enthusiasm if not actual enjoyment. _

"She still probably won't ever make karaoke a hobby," Wendy said to Laughlin, who gave her an odd look. She would have asked what was wrong, but Bridger had just asked Lucas a question she wanted to hear the answer to.

"Why didn't you bring this team to _seaQuest_?" the captain asked Lucas curiously. "No offense to Petty Officer Laughlin's team, of course, but I would've liked to meet these people."

"And the blonde - er, the commander," Krieg corrected himself belatedly. "When's she coming for a visit? I bet she's not happy that you're out here with us instead of back home with her."

Laughlin looked stunned, glancing from one member of the _seaQuest _crew to another.

"Do you really not know?"

"I don't imagine that anyone's told them, Petty Officer," Lucas said, keeping his attention on Sophie as she and Martinez hopped down off of the stage.

"What? What are we missing?"

Laughlin looked at Lucas again, but he was ignoring them all, focused on the mirage in front of him.

"Commander Sutton is dead, sir," she told Bridger slowly. "She was killed in action three months ago. All of Zeta Team is either dead or missing in action. Except -"

"Except me." Lucas sounded weary. "They're all gone, except for me." _Again_, he thought but did not say. He continued to watch his old teammates, missing the horrified looks that the _seaQuest _crew traded.

_"This is the last song," Wallace announced. "Everybody on stage!"_

_Lucas looked over at Sophie, who shrugged. She hadn't asked Wallace to tell her in advance which songs he'd picked, mostly because she trusted his judgment and his healthy fear of her response to keep him from choosing something grossly inappropriate. The two of them followed the rest of the team up onto the stage. _

Lucas watched as, with much joking and laughter, his team launched into an ensemble performance of the last song of the night. He felt a presence next to him, but it didn't keep him from tensing when Bridger put his hand on his shoulder.

_"Sometimes in our lives,  
we all have pain,  
we all have sorrow."_

"Lucas?"

_"But if we are wise,  
we know that there's always tomorrow."_

"If I could just go back there," he said, knowing the words and the sentiment were useless. "If I could just warn them about what's coming…"

_"Lean on me, when you're not strong."_

"They wouldn't have listened." That was Laughlin, who'd come up to stand on his other side. She was watching his team with a mixture of pride and sorrow. "Not if it meant turning down a mission or disobeying orders. We all know death could be waiting around the next corner. We do this job because we care about something more important."

_"And I'll be your friend,  
I'll help you carry on."_

Lucas looked mutely at her. She'd known several of the members of Zeta Team, had worked and trained with them. She'd had friends on his team. It was easy, sometimes, to forget that he wasn't the only one who'd suffered from their loss.

_"For it won't be long  
'til I'm gonna need  
Somebody to lean on."_

The memory faded away, another part of the cage matrix unlocked, and was replaced by a large tent on a stretch of sandy beach. The tent was filled with somber-looking people in UEO dress uniforms, although there were also some wearing black civilian clothing. The crowd was filled with people that the _seaQuest _crew recognized. Toward the front, a younger Lucas sat with Kristin Westphalen and Joshua Levin.

"That's my mother." Tim O'Neill sounded baffled, pointing to one of the civilians toward the back. "What is my mother doing in your memory?"

"This is the memorial service for the _seaQuest_."

They watched in stunned silence as the memorial service began. Bill Noyce was the first speaker, and he talked about the difference that the _seaQuest _had made in the world, the lives they'd saved and the scientific advancements they'd made. Next was a Navy chaplain, who read one of Tim's favorite passages from Ecclesiastes.

_"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance." _

Kristin Westphalen wept quietly as the chaplain continued to read. Lucas had his arm around her, but his expression was blank, as though in the face of such overwhelming grief he'd lost the ability to feel anything at all.

The last speaker was a woman Bridger knew only by reputation, a scientist who'd been politically active in the UEO for years. She gave what looked like a heartfelt speech, but the words were unintelligible, probably because Lucas had long since forgotten them. There was only one sentence that had stuck in his memory, and that she said clearly just before she stepped back from the podium.

_"We believe that we may meet again in a time to come, and perhaps we shall find somewhere a land where can live together and both be content."_

The memory started to go fuzzy as people left the tent and started to congregate, and Ben looked over at Lucas.

"I swiped one of the bottles of scotch they had at the bar," he said candidly. "I drank the whole thing while Dr. Westphalen was talking with Dr. Levin. I don't remember anything about the last two hours of the service." He paused, then added, "The hangover I had the next morning, however, I remember very clearly."

He looked at the _seaQuest _crew, but for once they seemed so overwhelmed by what they were seeing that they were speechless. He was selfishly glad for it; at least this was one memory where they wouldn't hit him with a barrage of questions about his past.

The memory was soon over, though, the scotch having done a spectacular job of erasing the particulars, and he felt another little click that signified another piece of the puzzle fitting into place. There was only one memory left, and he'd chosen it with no intention of anyone else ever seeing it.

The scene shifted again, this time to Sophie's living room.

_"We were in and out in half an hour. Bomb defused, crisis averted, foreign dignitaries saved." Lucas came out of the kitchen carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses, setting them down on the table and then loosening the bow tie of his tuxedo. "I think that calls for some celebration."_

_"There was only one disappointment," Sophie replied, and he was struck again by how beautiful she was. "We got all dressed up for the party, but I never got to dance."_

_She held up the remote for her audio player, and they shared a smile as she thumbed it on. He bowed formally as the opening strains of 'La Javanaise' played through the speakers, offering her his hand. _

_"May I have this dance?"_

Lucas watched as Sophie stepped willingly into his embrace, waltzing with him around the living room of her apartment. This was the only other pleasant memory in the sequence, and it had always been one of his favorites. She looked so stunning in that long green dress, her hair falling in loose curls down around her shoulders and that wry little smile on her lips just for him. His reverie was interrupted, however, when Laughlin turned abruptly on her heel with all of the precision any drill instructor could have asked for and stood at attention with her back to the scene.

"Laughlin?" Lucas asked, and she shook her head, refusing to turn back around to look at him.

"It's not my place to see any of this, sir," she said firmly, her tone giving no hint that there were currently tears streaking down her face. "I will _not_ be forced to play voyeur inside a senior officer's head."

The others were struck with guilt then, realizing that while they'd been treating this as an opportunity to find out something about Lucas's past, they'd also been effectively spying on him. He'd certainly never invited any of them to go poking around inside his mind, watching his memories like they were interesting film clips.

Bridger watched Lucas, waiting to see what his response to Laughlin's declaration would be. His faith in Lucas was justified; the young man rested a gentle hand on Laughlin's shoulder.

"At ease, Petty Officer," he instructed her softly. "After today, I think I see why she was so enamored with you."

"Who, sir?" Laughlin asked, moving automatically to a more relaxed stance at Lucas's words.

"Commander Sutton. She mentioned you to me several times before we went on our last mission."

"She did, sir?"

"She wanted you for Zeta Team. She said you were one of the best snipers ISD had seen in years. She thought you'd be a real asset to the team."

"She - she said that?" Laughlin was gaping at him now, her cheeks still wet with tears. "Commander, I...you don't know what that means to me. Commander Sutton was -" She paused to swipe surreptitiously at the tear tracks on her face. "Since the day I joined ISD, all I ever wanted was to be like her. I always hoped that maybe one day I'd make her team, but now..."

"Now I'm all that's left of her team." Lucas squeezed her shoulder briefly, then released it. "I'm sorry you never got to work with her, Petty Officer. She would have enjoyed you."

Laughlin seemed to struggle with herself for several seconds. If anything, she seemed more distressed than she had a moment ago.

"What's wrong, Laughlin?"

"Lieutenant Callahan is lying to you."

Lucas gave her an interested look. "Would you care to elaborate on that?"

"She isn't just here to coordinate our team or investigate the _seaQuest_ crew."

"Of course not," he sighed, exasperated. "No one in this division can ever just be doing one reasonable thing. They have to be doing six other ludicrous things in secret."

"She's investigating you, sir."

"Me?" Lucas sounded confused. "Why would she be investigating me?"

"I don't know for certain, sir. It's not like she confides in any of us. But - there are rumors."

Rumors were the lifeblood of ISD; anyone who'd worked there more than a week knew that. He looked expectantly at Laughlin, who bit her lip and looked over her shoulder to where he and Sophie were still dancing in his memory. He followed her gaze, the realization coming slowly as he watched Sophie rest her head against his chest, his fingers tangled in her hair.

"No," he said sharply, the word escaping him even though he knew that denying the allegation wouldn't do him any good.

"Lucas?" Bridger asked, and the younger man turned toward him, his expression as blank as it had been during the memorial service.

"They think I killed her."

"Wait. Someone thinks you killed this girl?" Ben demanded from behind him. "Even Callahan couldn't possibly believe that."

Lucas had returned his attention to Laughlin. "They know it was my fault that Sophie and I were captured."

"Yes, sir," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. "They said that you tripped the alarm."

"I did," he admitted. "Their system had a redundancy that I missed. It triggered a silent alarm and the Macronesians caught us before we could escape."

"There was suspicion…"

"That I tripped it on purpose," he finished for her tonelessly. "That I intentionally got us captured by the enemy so they could kill her."

"Yes, sir."

Lucas rubbed his forehead wearily, watching the memory that continued to play on around them. Sophie was running her fingers through his hair, smiling up at him in that way she had that said he'd done something she found charming.

_"I guess you aren't such a bad dancer after all."_

_"Only because I'm dancing with you." He pressed his lips to her temple, and she turned her head and drew him into a passionate kiss. The dancing became less important than the embrace, and he pulled her tighter against him as she started to unbutton his shirt, her green eyes sparkling in the low light. _

"It wasn't intentional, sir." There was certainty in Laughlin's voice.

"No," Lucas agreed quietly. "No. When we were captured, I begged them to take me instead of her. I pleaded, I bargained, I threatened…" He cleared his throat. "In the end, none of it mattered. They took her anyway."

Bridger's hand on his arm finally drew his gaze away from the couple in the middle of the room, and he looked at the captain with raw agony in his eyes.

"When they brought her back to me, she was already dying. All I could do was hold her…"

Bridger pulled him into a tight hug, trying to impart some measure of comfort that could break through his suffering. Lucas leaned against Bridger, drawing a little strength from the captain's solid presence. He reminded himself again that it was all a farce, that Sophie wasn't really dead, but recently he'd started to wonder if her undercover mission was all just something he'd dreamed up, if he'd imagined the whole thing to keep from having to admit to himself that she was dead. It was a terrifying thought. The knowledge that Sophie was out there somewhere, alive, was the only thing still holding him together.

Behind him, Wendy was weeping quietly, Ben and Tim both holding back tears beside her. After a long moment of silence, Laughlin spoke again, her voice wavering.

"Callahan thinks you set Commander Sutton up to be killed, and then you set up Zeta Team after she was dead."

Lucas pulled away from Bridger, a grim mask settling over his features again.

"Of course she does. First my partner dies and then my team disappears. Who wouldn't be suspicious?"

"And then the _seaQuest _reappeared, sir."

It all made a twisted sort of sense.

"She thinks I sacrificed Sophie and Zeta Team to Bourne in exchange for the return of the _seaQuest _and her crew?"

Laughlin nodded silently, and Ben exploded.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! How could anyone actually believe that Lucas would betray his own people and make a deal with the devil to bring back the _seaQuest_? At the cost of the lives of his own team and the woman he loved? That's insane!"

"I said it myself once," Lucas informed him tiredly. "Just after the memorial service for the _seaQuest _crew. I said I'd give anything to have all of you back." He looked again at his memory. Sophie had put the song on repeat when it ended, kicking off her high heels as he'd shucked his jacket and dress shirt. They were dancing again, toasting their success with the champagne he'd brought. "I guess I got what I wanted after all. But the cost…"

Bridger and Wendy both started to speak then, but there was a soft click in the recesses of his mind. This was the last memory in the sequence, the last tumbler to be turned in his mental lock, and it was complete.

In the space between one breath and the next, the others disappeared, and Lucas was left alone with the remnants of his past. The cage matrix was open now; all it would take to escape his own mind was a single thought.

_"La vie ne vaut d'etre vecue sans amour," _crooned the singer on the audio player, and the ghost of a smile crossed his face as he translated the words in his head.

_Life is not worth living without love._

Lucas sat down on the couch in Sophie's living room, watching as he and Sophie swayed contentedly in each other's arms. The others were safely gone, and the outside world held far less appeal for him than this memory did.


	31. Chapter 31

019. With hearts strangely lightened they now rested again, but not for long.

* * *

"We have the capacity to house approximately sixty prisoners on the station." Captain John Forester led the dark-haired woman down the hall, glancing briefly over at her. Even with her thick glasses and the admittedly unflattering military uniform, she was pretty, and she seemed like the quiet, bookish type of woman that he himself preferred. "As of this morning, we have fifty-seven. At the risk of sounding unprofessional, Lieutenant Wilson, I have to tell you that the supply officers they send to do our inventory reviews aren't usually so attractive."

She smiled blandly. "Most people aren't happy when Inventory Control is sent out to audit them, Captain, and they certainly don't go to the trouble to try and charm me. Unless, of course, they're trying to hide something."

Forester spread his hands out in a gesture of innocence. "My station is at your disposal, Lieutenant. We don't have anything to hide." He grinned then. "Except, of course, the identities of our prisoners."

"I don't care about that," she replied, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "All of these prisons are the same, full of criminals and traitors and UEO scum. I will have to see each of them in person to get an accurate head count of the number of people on the station, but I'd prefer it if you kept them behind bars while I do it."

"Oh, of course, of course. We don't allow them out of their cells, Lieutenant, so you can rest easy." Her words confirmed his initial impression of her. Like most other supply officers who ended up on the inventory circuit, she was the sort who preferred numbers to people. He would have wagered a week's pay that she had either been an accountant in her civilian life or would become one once she left the military.

"I'll need an office to use while I'm here," she added, her Australian accent light and melodic. "Preferably somewhere quiet, and not too close to the, er, cells."

"I'll be happy to offer you the use of an office inside the command center," he replied. "It's small, but it's very peaceful. It's also just down the hall from my office, so if you need me -" He snapped his fingers, giving her a warm smile. "I can be there just like that."

* * *

"That's all I know, sir," Laughlin concluded, feeling some of the weight sliding off of her shoulders. When she'd realized that there was no way Wolenczak was involved with what had happened to Sutton or Zeta Team, her obvious next step should have been to go to Callahan with what she knew, but her instincts screamed that it was a bad idea. Her next choice was to go to one of her chiefs, but both of them would have been duty-bound to go to Callahan with the information. Thankfully, she knew at least one person who outranked Callahan and who was likely to be on Wolenczak's side.

"Here's what I don't understand," Jack Pearson said, his irritation coming through loud and clear even through the static of the secure vidlink transmission. "_seaQuest_'s miraculous return aside, Callahan knows that Wolenczak would _never_ act against Sutton. And the idea that he would even consider betraying his own team…"

Laughlin had been aware of the rumors about Sutton and Wolenczak's affair, but she'd never attempted to confirm or deny what she'd heard, feeling strongly that it wasn't any of her business. There were other personal relationships in ISD, though, and some of those rumors were impossible to avoid. Everyone knew about the bizarre Pearson-Sutton-Callahan love triangle that had happened several years ago; Callahan had pursued Pearson mercilessly, but in the end he'd dumped her for Sutton, who'd never returned his feelings and, apparently, had been in a relationship with Wolenczak the whole time, which was even stranger because Wolenczak and Pearson had always appeared to be friendly with each other. She supposed that made it more of a love quadrangle than a triangle, and it also made Laughlin very glad that people cared less about the enlisted team members' love lives than they did about the officers'.

Still, she'd known that Pearson would come out on Wolenczak's side of this, both because they were friends and because he was virtually guaranteed to take the viewpoint opposing Callahan's, regardless of the issue at hand.

"It's time for Lowry to rein her in," Pearson was saying, shaking his head. "I can see why he'd want to give her a little leeway, given the circumstances, but this is ridiculous. Thank you for giving me a heads-up, Petty Officer."

"Of course, sir." She didn't ask what circumstances he was talking about. In truth, she didn't really want to know. It was enough that he was going to do something about Callahan before she managed to make an even bigger mess of things. "And Commander Wolenczak, sir?"

"Don't worry, Laughlin, I'll take care of it."

"Thank you, sir," she said with feeling, and disconnected the call with a sigh of relief. Maybe now she could go back to doing her job with a clear conscience, and get rid of the nagging feeling that Commander Wolenczak was in real trouble. Surely with Jack Pearson on his side, he'd be safe enough.

* * *

Sophie was being escorted on her inspection of the prison by Captain Forester himself, who seemed to be quite enamored with 'Lieutenant Wilson'. Her disguise, paired with the use of her empathic ability, was doing a superb job of making her appear harmless. So far they'd gone down two of the three halls containing prisoner cells, with twenty cells on each hall. Even without being given the prisoners' names, she'd recognized two different Section Seven agents on the first hall. It was likely that most of these prisoners were members of one or another of the UEO's covert operations divisions. She hadn't yet seen any of the members of her own team, however, and mentally she crossed her fingers as they headed down the last hall.

"This way, Lieutenant," the captain said, gesturing for her to precede him, and out of the corner of her eye she spotted Jovasti sitting in the cell to her left. She'd been preparing for the sight of her people, had steeled herself to keep from reacting outwardly, but her relief was almost overwhelming. She'd found them.

"Captain." Her hand brushed his sleeve, her smile coy. "You can call me Helen, if you'd like."

He grinned broadly, and actually had the gall to take her hand in his and raise it to his mouth, kissing it in full view of the prisoners on either side of the hall.

"I should probably stick to calling you 'Lieutenant Wilson' while we're on duty," he murmured, and she hoped his voice was loud enough for Jovasti to hear.

"You're right, of course," she said, slipping her hand out of his grasp and returning her attention to her clipboard, giving every appearance of embarrassment. "I don't know what came over me. I apologize, Captain."

"Save the apology for tonight," he advised her with a smile. "I'd love to get to know 'Helen' a little better over dinner."

"I'd like that."

She glanced into the cell and found Jovasti watching her. She turned a little toward the captain, giving Jovasti a clear view of the patch on her uniform that held her cover ID's surname. He knew about the Helen Wilson cover ID; she and Lucas had created it nearly two years ago, and she'd kept it in reserve just in case. Jovasti had helped Lucas with falsifying Helen Wilson's medical records.

"You may have some difficulty with this hall," Forester told her. "This is our newest group of prisoners, and some of them have been uncooperative with our people. They've only been here a couple of months, so they haven't yet gotten the hang of things around here."

"I'm hardly asking them to go out of their way for me," she pointed out. "All they need to do is stand up so that I can see them clearly and then indicate whether or not they are receiving adequate food and water. I'm certain, Captain, that your people already impressed upon these...individuals...how unpleasant things can be when they refuse to cooperate."

"Unfortunately, one of them did require some disciplinary action by the guards. I don't generally approve of that sort of thing, though, Lieutenant." He shook his head, glancing back toward the command center. "We are officers in the Macronesian military, not vicious animals. Some people can't seem to grasp that we're supposed to be the civilized ones in this war."

"Indeed," she said, managing to keep the irony out of her voice, and wondered which of her people had required 'disciplinary action'. If she had to put money on which of them would be the first to anger the guards, she'd probably go with Demarin, given his unfortunate propensity to run his mouth without thinking about the consequences. It was a relief to know that they weren't being tortured, which had been a very real possibility. In fact, most of the prisoners on the other two halls seemed to be as well-nourished and generally healthy as she could expect under the circumstances.

She turned to face Jovasti's cell, his eyes still fixed on her.

"Please stand," she instructed, her ersatz accent making the words lyrical. Jovasti complied without speaking, and outwardly she appeared to inspect him as she had all of the other prisoners, making sure that he wasn't visibly malnourished as a way of checking that the supplies the Macronesian government was paying for were actually being used for their intended purpose of feeding the prisoners. As a supply officer, that was her job. As Jovasti's mission coordinator, however, she was also looking for any subtle changes that might impact his ability to participate in an escape. She saw no signs of a limp or other evidence that his ability to move would be impaired, and both of his hands appeared uninjured.

He could run and he could shoot, which would be sufficient for participation in her top three methods of jailbreaking. It would do.

"Have you been receiving adequate rations during your term here?"

"I have."

She made the appropriate notation on her clipboard, the gesture automatic after doing the same thing for forty other prisoners.

"There," she declared, looking back over at the captain. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

He inclined his head in her direction, leading her on to the next cell. His attention momentarily off of her, she double-checked the positions of the multiple cameras in the hall and let her hand fall to her side and out of their range, signaling Jovasti the 'hold position' hand sign they used in the field. His own hand twitched, clearly resisting the impulse to signal his confirmation, and she hid a smile. Her message had gotten through.

The next cell held Kelson, who was passably cooperative with her instructions, although if looks could kill he would have easily taken out both Sophie and the captain. He hadn't known about the Helen Wilson ID, and her disguise was good enough that he wasn't likely to recognize her without a hint that she couldn't give him in front of Forester. She'd have to hope that Jovasti would be able to pass the word quietly.

Demarin was Kelson's neighbor. Surprisingly enough, the object of the guards' anger hadn't been Demarin, if his lack of bruises was anything to judge by.

"You want me to stand, right?" was Demarin's greeting. She nodded and he pushed off the bed into a technically perfect handstand. "Will this do?"

She choked on an ill-concealed laugh. It was a miracle the Macs hadn't pounded his face in yet.

"Are you imprisoning circus entertainers, Captain Forester?"

"Oh, this hall has been quite the source of entertainment for us since this group was brought in a few months ago." He gave her a conspiratorial smile. "Would you believe they've been singing?"

"Singing?" she repeated. "Singing what?"

"All manner of songs. They've turned this hall into a cross between a summer camp and a karaoke bar. I have access to the footage from the security cameras in my office, so I usually listen in on them in the evenings. Some of them are actually quite good."

"They…what?' she said finally, for once feeling as startled as she pretended to be.

"It helps to pass the time." Demarin, irrepressible as ever, was right-side up again and grinning at her - and he didn't know about the Helen Wilson cover, which meant he thought he was grinning at a Macronesian supply officer. "I'd be happy to sing something for you. Do you have a favorite song?"

"I…"

"Oh, go ahead, Lieutenant," Forester urged her, still smiling. She was smiling now, too, unable to help herself in the face of such absurdity. Her team was being held in the most secure prison in Macronesia because they were too dangerous to be held anywhere else, and their response was to entertain the guards with karaoke? And Forester was _encouraging_ it? In a UEO prison, especially one as high-security as this one, that sort of nonsense would never be tolerated. Any prisoner who tried it was likely to end up being used as an example to his fellows of what happened when one took their situation too lightly. Of course, in a UEO prison they never would have held the entire team together on the same hall where they could communicate with each other; it was a recipe for disaster. Clearly the Macs did things differently.

At least Forester and the guards seemed to find it funny, and maybe it was helping the team keep their spirits up in captivity. Maybe their entertainment value was part of the reason they hadn't been harmed. It hardly seemed like appropriate behavior for the most accomplished team of covert operatives in the UEO, though. All she could really be certain of was that this was all Wolenczak's fault. Him and his ridiculous teambuilding activity.

The thought of Lucas spurred her back to the present, and she offered Demarin a tight smile.

"I don't suppose you know anything by Journey."

"The lady likes the classics," Forester said, sounding delighted, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. If they'd met under different circumstances, Demarin and Forester probably would have hit it off instantly, bonding over their shared love of acting like fools around attractive women.

Demarin's smile had dimmed a little, however, and she suspected that her choice of bands had clued him in to the fact that she wasn't just any Mac supply officer.

"I know a few of their songs," he offered. "How about 'Faithfully'? Or 'Open Arms'?"

"How about 'Don't Stop Believing'?"

There was the recognition she'd been waiting for, flashing in his eyes for a brief second before he shrugged.

"Sorry," he said, sounding regretful. "All I know is the chorus. I guess I was never big on romantic ballads."

So he was having second thoughts about serenading her now that he suspected who she was. Good; it was proof that he still had some modicum of propriety about him, or at least a sense of self-preservation.

"I'd consider it more of a power ballad," she replied, giving him one last hint before turning to the captain with a look that suggested she'd had about enough of this nonsense. "Anyway, thank you for your cooperation, such as it was. Captain Forester, if we could move on?"

Wallace was in the next cell, and she wasn't entirely shocked to see that one side of his face was black and blue, his right eye puffy and swollen. Demarin was the most obvious troublemaker, but Wallace had a protective streak even bigger than Wolenczak's. If he'd gotten the sense that one of the guards was contemplating harming one of the others, he wouldn't have hesitated to bait them himself and take whatever punishment they'd been planning to dole out to his teammate. If he'd taken it on Demarin's behalf, however, she was going to have a talk with him about letting other people face their own consequences. He'd heard every word of her conversation with Demarin, of course, and managed a wink with his good eye as acknowledgement of her identity that slid past the captain's notice.

Hallifeld was next door to Wallace. She was the first one whose appearance really worried Sophie. She cooperated listlessly with Sophie's instructions, but her expression was blank, without any of the resistance or anger Sophie would have expected to see.

Cell after cell, she found the rest of the missing members of her team, all displaying varying levels of irritation at the presence of the Macronesian officers although they all cooperated. That was a policy that Sophie had beaten into each of them years ago: if they were captured and there was no immediate opportunity for escape, they were to follow whatever instructions they were given and do whatever it took to stay alive long enough for help to come or an opportunity to escape to present itself. Several of them had old injuries, probably taken during the initial fight months ago, but they appeared to have healed adequately in the interim.

Melahar and Carter were the only two missing, and they'd both been killed during the fight that had resulted in the capture of the rest of the team. Carter's death was also the likeliest explanation for how ragged Hallifeld looked. Sophie made it her business to know what was going on in the lives of her team members, although it was also her policy not to interfere unless it was absolutely necessary. Carter had been head over heels for Hallifeld for years, although he'd only worked up the courage to tell her about a month before the team had been taken. Sophie knew that he and Hallifeld had started dating after that, although she'd gotten the impression that Hallifeld wasn't looking for the same kind of commitment that Carter was. She'd even made a mental note to keep an eye on them, to make sure that what she'd expected back then to be an inevitable breakup wouldn't affect their ability to work on the same team.

They'd still been together when Zeta Team had been sent on their last mission. Looking at Hallifeld now, she wondered if she'd been wrong about the depth of the other woman's feelings. Sophie hoped it wouldn't impair her ability to fight when the time came to pull off their escape.

* * *

Jovasti lay on his cot and watched as Commander Sutton left with the Macronesian captain, more relaxed than he'd been in months. He had no idea how she'd found them, or how long she'd been out of the coma, but he'd never been so glad to see her in his life.

Two cells down, Demarin had started whistling. It took Wallace a minute to recognize the song, but when he did, he couldn't help but laugh. The song was appropriate, although it was likely to earn Demarin a black eye to match his own if Sutton heard him. It was an old Elton John song - 'The Bitch is Back'.

With hearts strangely lightened they now rested again, but not for long. Now that Sutton was here, things weren't likely to stay quiet.

* * *

Lucas sat in the wardroom, his spine rigidly straight even in the ergonomically designed chair. His eyes were red and bloodshot, and he seemed paler than usual. Bridger was a little worried that he might simply keel over from stress and exhaustion.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"I did." Bridger sat down next to him rather than across the table, not wanting to start from an adversarial position. From the look of him, however, it wasn't likely to do much good. Lucas was clearly in no mood to chat. "I'm worried about you."

"I appreciate the sentiment, sir, but I'm fine."

_That _was as bald-faced a lie as anyone had ever told him, delivered in a flat tone devoid of even the barest amount of interest.

"Lucas, I've seen men dead a week who were in better shape than you are."

"If my performance -"

"I don't care about your performance," Bridger said, which at this moment was the unvarnished truth. Lucas's performance hadn't suffered at all since they'd woken up from the incident with the psychic pulse; it was Lucas himself who was suffering. "I care about you."

"Captain, this isn't -," Lucas started to say, then stopped, shaking his head. "Please don't do this."

"Do what?" Bridger asked, confused.

"Don't try to get me to talk about what happened. Don't be kind and understanding and sympathetic." His voice cracked. "You don't know how hard it is for me to keep it together right now, and Callahan is practically salivating, waiting for me to fall apart so she can make her move."

"This is my boat," Bridger pointed out. "If it'll solve the problem, I can throw her in the brig for the duration."

Lucas choked on a mirthless laugh. "Can't you see how much worse that would make it? She'd see it as proof that I'm colluding with you."

"What if I restricted you to your quarters?" the captain proposed, watching the younger man's expression. "For medical reasons, perhaps? I'm sure Dr. Smith would agree that if you don't get some rest, you're likely to collapse from the strain."

"Captain, if you want to help me, the best thing you can do at this point is to stay out of it." It was true; Pearson had called, telling Lucas that while he was doing everything he could to get Callahan pulled off of _seaQuest_, it would take time. All he had to do was keep her from gathering any 'evidence' of treason on his behalf until Pearson could get Lowry to call off Callahan's witch hunt. "Please, just don't get involved. It's being taken care of. All I need is a little more time."

It went against Bridger's better judgment, but eventually he agreed, if only because Lucas seemed so desperate. Lucas had already lost the woman he loved and his entire team, and he hadn't been given any time to cope with that loss before he'd had the return of _seaQuest _and her crew thrust upon him. Now his own department was investigating him for treason, and Bridger wondered why the universe couldn't just cut the poor kid some slack. He'd already been through so much.

* * *

They had dinner in Captain Forester's office. Sophie was surprised by how distant he seemed; she'd been expecting to have to fend off his advances, not struggle just to keep him engaged in conversation. Finally he sighed, setting down his napkin on the table.

"I'm sorry, Helen. I haven't been giving you the attention due to a lovely woman who consents to have dinner with an old sailor like me."

"Nonsense," she replied demurely, and he gave her a tired smile.

"I'm really not looking forward to tomorrow. It's all I've been able to think about, even with such delightful company for a distraction."

"Oh?"

He leaned back in his chair, studying her. "Out in the prison wing today, on Hall Three…you disapproved of me letting those prisoners carry on with that singing nonsense."

She shifted, uncomfortable. "I'd never presume to tell you how to do your job, Captain."

"The truth is that I usually wouldn't tolerate that sort of nonsense myself."

"Except?"

"Except that those prisoners came with very specific instructions. They were to be treated for their injuries on arrival and not significantly harmed in any way for the duration of their stay here."

Sophie had gone still, not liking the way this conversation was headed. There would only be a few reasons for orders like those, and she didn't like any of them.

"Who told you that?"

"General Stassi himself," he told her, nodding in agreement when her eyes widened. "It gets worse. He sent me another message today. There's a media crew arriving tomorrow afternoon; he's sending them to record the prisoners' executions."

"You're going to kill them?"

"I've been given a direct order to do so." Forester sighed. "I'm sure he'll charge them with something outlandish first. Sedition and terrorism, or killing children, or whatever else it takes to turn them into monsters when they're really just soldiers like the rest of us. Soldiers who happen to be fighting for the wrong side. They should be pitied, not demonized, and certainly not executed in front of the entire alliance."

Sophie was reeling. Here was Stassi's response to ISD's efforts to catch him, his brutal equivalent of flipping Lowry the finger. He would execute her entire team just to make a point.

"Do they know?" she asked finally, once she'd regained control of her breathing and her voice was no longer likely to give her away.

"I haven't had the heart to tell them." He drained his wine glass. "Now, at least, you see my reasoning. In the face of that, how could I begrudge them a few campfire singalongs?"

She nodded absently, her mind already light-years away. Plans A and B for the jailbreak would take too much time, which now left her with Plan C as her best option. She could maybe subdue the guards and get the prisoners to the docking bay without any outside help, but the only shuttle currently docked at the station held eight people at maximum capacity. If this was going to work, she needed a way to get all of these people off of the station, including the prisoners who weren't ISD. If she only rescued her own people, Stassi might decide to execute the rest in a fit of temper, and she wasn't going to let that happen. She also needed a boat with enough firepower to keep the Macs from recapturing them before she could get them into neutral waters.

She needed the _seaQuest_.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: Once again, thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing. Your insights into the characters and the story never fail to amaze me, and I'm delighted that you're enjoying this as much as I am!

* * *

021. We shall search the valley from head to foot and peer under every pebble.

* * *

Sophie sat in the captain's office, using the descrambler built into the stem of her glasses to crack the password on his computer. The captain himself was safely asleep in his quarters, and at 0300 it was unlikely that any of the crew would come looking for him here.

The computer let out a happy little beep, announcing that the password was correct, and she flinched, grabbing for the audio controls and snapping them to 'off'. The last thing she needed was to attract attention now, when she was so close to putting her plan into action. She'd spent the last two hours crawling around inside the ventilation system of the station, re-rigging the riot gas dispersal system in the prisoner halls and carefully marking the turns in the ducting that led to the day shift's quarters. Now she needed to reach Lucas.

By some minor miracle, the _seaQuest_ had continued on the same route along the border that she'd been taking when Sophie arrived at the station, and now she was less than two hours away. The station wasn't even that far off of the boat's current path; with any luck, the Macs wouldn't notice that something was wrong until it was too late.

She pulled apart the other eyeglass stem, sliding out the thin data strip and pushing it into the computer's waiting intake slot. It blinked at her, its beeping ability temporarily disabled, and she sighed in relief when the screen popped up the appropriate text prompt.

ACTIVATE HOMING SIGNAL Y/N?

_Y_, she typed, and another box popped up, telling her that the information she'd carefully coded onto the strip was now being sent on a tightbeam to the UEO's secure com frequency. Any UEO ship within the substantial radius of the station's broadcasting abilities would be receiving her message, although they'd have to have the right codes to understand it.

Her glasses snapped easily back together, and she shoved them into her bag. She unplugged the monitor from the CPU, leaving the screen blank although the message was still broadcasting, and put one of Pearson's door-locking magnetic contraptions on the door to the captain's office. Next she reached into her bag, pulling out an XE-8 with a top of the line silencer attached to the muzzle. It wasn't her XE-9, but it was serviceable and the serial numbers had been etched off with acid, so there was nothing to connect this gun to Sophie Sutton or the UEO. The gun went into the holster at the small of her back and the strap of the duffle went across her body, the bag tucked snugly against her hip. She pulled herself up into the ventilation shaft again and was gone, the blinking light on the computer's CPU the only indication that she'd ever been there.

* * *

Tim watched Lucas out of the corner of his eye. Tim was pulling a double shift to cover for Hawkins on the midnight shift, who'd come down with the flu, and at only three hours into what was going to be a 16-hour day he was already regretting it. Lucas, on the other hand, sat at the tactical station, engrossed in whatever it was he was doing and showing no signs of being ready to call it a night, even though he'd been on the bridge since Tim had finished his earlier shift yesterday afternoon.

They were all worried about Lucas, but none so much as the few who'd been affected by the psychic pulse. Lucas hadn't spoken a word to any of them about what they'd seen, and had immersed himself in his work so completely that the only time any of them saw him was on the bridge. He looked terrible, probably because he was so sleep-deprived, and Tim and Wendy both suspected that part of the reason he was avoiding sleep was to stave off dreams about the people he'd lost. The deaths and disappearance of his girlfriend and his entire team, all within a month of each other, and now all of that being blamed on him… If Tim had been through what Lucas had, he wasn't sure he'd ever want to close his eyes again.

Lucas would have been horrified if he'd known how much time Tim, Ben, and Wendy were spending talking about him. They couldn't help it; they cared about him, they were all deeply troubled by his current situation, and they spent most of their time brainstorming ways they could help him that he wouldn't reject out of hand.

The little red light at the upper left corner of his station lit up, indicating a message on a secure UEO frequency. Given that ISD only ever used secure frequencies, it was probably for Lucas.

"Commander Wolenczak, I have an incoming transmission on a secure frequency," he identified, and Lucas glanced over toward him.

"Put it through to this station, Lieutenant," he instructed, and Tim typed in the command to transfer the call. Lucas opened the line, stared at the screen for a long moment, and then, to Tim's surprise, slapped his hand down on the button that activated the ship's alarms.

"_General Quarters. General Quarters. All hands to battle stations_," instructed the computer's monotone, the lights dimming to half-strength and going to a reddish overtone to allow for a clearer view of their backlit stations.

"Helm, set a new course," Lucas was ordering, voice pitched to carry over the alarm and the computer's instructions. "Transmitting coordinates to your station."

Ensign Ellers, at the helm, gave Tim a swift look, but Lucas was the ranking officer on the bridge.

"New course, aye, sir," Ellers replied. "Coordinates received. Ready to engage."

"Maximum speed, Ensign," Lucas instructed. "I want us there in under an hour."

It was a ninety minute trip at best, but Ellers kept his mouth shut and did as he was ordered. Since Wolenczak had sounded General Quarters, Bridger would be on his way, and maybe the captain would be able to reason with the commander. He wasn't about to contradict Wolenczak unless the Navy was going to give him hazard pay for it.

* * *

Bridger arrived at a run, Ford on his heels. Callahan wasn't far behind them, entering the bridge with one of the CPOs from Sigma Team.

"Commander Wolenczak, report."

"Captain, we've received an emergency transmission from a deep-cover operative of the Intelligence Security Division. Her assignment was the location and retrieval of a captured ISD team, and she is now requesting emergency evacuation for herself and fifty-seven UEO prisoners of war."

His words sent a shockwave through the bridge, everyone falling silent for a long moment. Fifty-seven of their own people…

"Where are they, Commander?" Bridger asked, and Lucas nodded to the console in front of him.

"Coordinates are here, sir. It's not far off of our original course, near the bottom of the Cormorant Valley, just inside Macronesian waters. We're already on a course to intercept."

Bridger and Ford exchanged a quick look, but there could be no real argument. Technically, crossing into Macronesian waters was against their standing orders, but when the reward was the chance to save nearly sixty of their own people? How could they argue with that?

"That valley has been mapped by the UEO," Callahan said, hands on her hips. "There's nothing of any tactical value there, and nowhere they could be hiding nearly sixty prisoners of war."

"Then we shall search the valley from head to foot and peer under every pebble, Lieutenant," Lucas said, and Tim got the impression he was getting close to giving in to temptation and simply shooting Callahan. Personally, he would've enjoyed seeing it, but he knew it would cause even bigger problems for Lucas. "That's where the transmission is coming from, so that's where our people are."

Bridger moved to stand next to Lucas, lowering his voice so that he wouldn't be overheard.

"Lucas, have you considered that this might be a trap?"

Lucas met his gaze, and under the young man's defiance Bridger saw desperation.

"Captain, the data strip that's sending this transmission? I designed it myself. If it were a forgery, I'd know."

Bridger seemed unconvinced, and Lucas lowered his own voice, his words fast and intense.

"Helen Wilson's assignment was to find Zeta Team, Captain. My team. If there's a chance that this is real, that _my team_ is somewhere down in that valley, then I have to try to rescue them."

Bridger nodded slowly, then glanced over to where Callahan and Ford were standing. From Lucas's expression, Bridger surmised that Callahan didn't know any of this and that Lucas would prefer to keep it that way. His next words confirmed that suspicion.

Taking Bridger's nod as assent, Lucas had turned to Chief Young from Sigma Team.

"Chief, get your people prepped for an extraction. _seaQuest _will need to stay mobile in case of an attack during the retrieval, so you'll be using the launches to get our people out." Lucas did a quick mental calculation; the launches held a maximum of fifteen personnel, not counting the pilot. "Your team will go over in the first launch. We'll use three launches in a continuous cycle. Load a maximum of thirteen POWs on each launch with two of your people aboard to keep order. Treat this as a hostile boarding; your objective is to get all of the UEO personnel back to _seaQuest_ alive. We also have an undercover operative inside the prison, Lieutenant Helen Wilson. She's five foot seven, with brown hair, brown eyes, probably wearing a Mac uniform. Pass the word to all of your people, and for God's sake don't shoot her."

"Aye, sir."

"Dismissed."

"I'm going -" Callahan started to say, but Lucas cut her off.

"You're staying here." _Where I can keep an eye on you_ remained unspoken. "Go find Lieutenant Krieg. Figure out which of the boat's cargo bays is large enough to hold sixty rescued POWs, shift any necessary cargo out of the bay, and get Dr. Smith and a team from Sickbay to start setting up triage there. We don't know what kind of condition these people will be in when they get here, and we need to be prepared for the worst. You'll also be responsible for vetting each of the arrivals, confirming that they're UEO personnel. If anyone turns out to be Macronesian or refuses to give you their information, have Lieutenant Brody place them in the brig until further notice. This is a prime opportunity for the Macs to sneak a sleeper onboard."

The idea that she might get to catch a Macronesian spy seemed to mollify Callahan, who disappeared back the way she'd come, presumably to find Krieg. Tim hoped Ben would forgive Lucas for sticking him with Callahan.

Lucas had returned his attention to the monitor at the tactical station, and he watched as the _seaQuest_ sped toward the little blip on his screen that represented every ounce of hope he had left.

* * *

The prison's staff complement consisted of Captain Forester, two engineers, one communications specialist, a cook, and 27 guards - three per hall on a three-shift daily rotation. Thirty-two people altogether, not counting the fictitious Lieutenant Wilson from Inventory Control.

They were now down to fifteen.

Sophie pulled herself around the corner of the vent shaft, taking a moment to regroup. She'd chosen the most expedient method of eliminating the off-duty crew who were sleeping in their quarters, simply crawling through the ductwork to each of their rooms and using her silenced weapon to shoot them from the air vents while they slept. It wasn't anything like a fair fight, but it was safer, and she'd managed to kill seventeen men without a single alarm being activated or anyone else on the station being tipped off as to what was happening.

It would have surprised most of the people who knew her if they learned how much she hated that particular method of killing. She was a legend for her lack of sympathy and her cold, calculating approach to tactical situations; if there was an efficient solution to a problem, she chose it, regardless of how brutal it was. Her team would never believe that she'd had Forester in her sights, the captain asleep and unaware of the danger, and her finger had actually hesitated on the trigger. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't easy for her to kill someone in cold blood. She'd even liked Forester a little - not his heavy-handed flirtation, but his sympathy for the UEO prisoners, and his sorrow at being ordered to kill her team.

The biggest difference between her and people like her partner was that she was a pragmatist at heart. If she'd left Forester and the others alive, they would have done everything in their power to stop the prison break, and they might have succeeded. They also might have injured or killed her people during the attempt, and that was a risk Sophie was simply not willing to take. Maybe all of the Macronesian soldiers on the station were good people, all serving their confederation because they believed they were doing what was right. She didn't know. She didn't want to know. Her job was to rescue the prisoners, and if she had to execute every last one of the Macronesians onboard to assure the prisoners' safety, so be it. When she'd gotten her people home, she'd have a drink in honor of each of the men she'd killed to keep her own alive. Then Wolenczak would nag her about her drinking, she'd roll her eyes and pour a glass for him, and life would finally be back to normal.

For now, she needed to shake off her reverie and make a decision about her next move.

The nine guards currently on shift were split down the three halls, but they weren't her current concern. There were six off-duty crew members in the small dining hall, which doubled as the rec room on the station. The ventilation ducts narrowed to 24 square inches before they reached the room, so her current assassination technique wasn't going to work. She had a few other options, however. A grenade tossed through the door would take care of those six, but it would definitely set off alarms and then she'd lose the element of surprise with the nine on-duty guards. She could seal the doors to the dining hall and simply leave them there, although that gave them the opportunity to try and break into the communications array and possibly send a distress signal to whatever Mac ships happened to be nearby.

Her third option was to grab her gun, cross her fingers, walk through the door, and see if she could take them all out before one of them got her: the 'Wyatt Earp' method, as Graham had dubbed it. The communications specialist, Harris, was the only one of the group who she'd observed carrying a firearm while off-duty, but she had no way to know for sure how many of them were armed. If she could take them all out before they alerted the guards, the rest of her plan should fall into place.

She exchanged the nearly empty clip in her gun for one with a full load of ammunition. The modified XE-8 held fifteen rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber, giving her two rounds per person and four extras as a cushion before she'd have to reload. Taking a deep breath, she dropped out of the vent shaft two doors down from the dining hall.

* * *

Only two of the men looked up when she entered, and they both offered her welcoming smiles. She ignored them, taking a quick inventory of the locations of all six. The two over by the vidscreen would be the hardest to hit, and she took a moment to hope that they were unarmed before she opened fire.

The two who'd greeted her were the first to die, followed by the communications specialist, who never had time to draw his weapon. She shot the fourth man near the galley entrance, and was turning toward the vidscreen when the sharp crack of an unsilenced weapon echoed through the room. One of the last two was armed after all.

Sophie dropped behind the relative cover of the galley counter, cursing under her breath when the sharp pain in her arm registered. He'd clipped her with that shot.

The second man was moving, going for the intercom panel in the wall to warn the guards. Unfortunately for him, he had to cross open space to reach it, and she dropped him three feet from the panel. It was a waiting game now: either Sophie or the last survivor would have to break cover in order to break the stalemate. He fired a few aimless shots, hoping to get lucky and hit her, but she waited, still and silent despite the blood dripping down her arm.

Her patience had been honed over years of situations just like this one, and odds were that the Macronesian officer's battle experience was vastly inferior to hers. Sure enough, it was less than thirty seconds before he made his move. Despite the covering fire he laid down as he ran for the panel, she dropped him just as efficiently as she had the other soldier.

_Now_ she could tend to her arm, and she did so with several muttered curses, grabbing the first aid kit from the galley and slapping a numbing patch over the injury, then covering it with a pressure bandage to stop the bleeding. Her luck had held; it just a graze, bloody but insignificant in terms of affecting her ability to complete the rescue.

It was time for the last phase of her plan.

* * *

"Best movie of that decade, hands down."

"You're insane," Wallace told Kelson flatly. They couldn't see each other, since their cells shared a solid metal wall, but the bars on the doors of the cells meant that they could hear each other if they spoke loudly enough. "There's no way that the remake of the A-Team was the best movie of the 2000s. You know what else was made that decade?"

"Don't say 'Memento'."

"You just don't know how to appreciate a truly good movie. And while we're at it -"

"Don't you _dare_ say 'Saw'."

"I wasn't going to say 'Saw'." Wallace's indignant tone lasted about three seconds. "Everybody knows that 'Saw 3' was the best movie in the series."

"If we're going with a series from the 2000s, why not the Bourne Identity?"

A chorus of groans met Jovasti's words.

"Please tell me we're not going to spend the next twenty minutes debating Identity versus Supremacy versus Ultimatum."

"Don't you people ever watch any _current_ movies? I'd pick Lena LeVay playing a smokin' hot federal agent in 'Dead to Rights' over any of these oldies."

"Just dump the whole 2000s argument and agree that the best movie of that decade was clearly Wall-E."

Martinez's statement managed to silence them all momentarily. Wallace was the first one to recover.

"You can't possibly be serious."

"Nope." They could all hear the smile in her voice. "But I'm betting none of you Neanderthals ever saw 'Amelie'."

"I saw it," Graham replied, sounding meditative. "It was good."

"…seriously?"

"I liked it. It could have used a few explosions, but other than that -"

The sound of an ear-piercing alarm split the air, and polycarbonate thermoplastic shields slammed down outside the doors of each cell, cutting off their conversation more effectively than any ludicrous movie suggestion Martinez could have come up with. They'd been through this deal with the alarms and the shields twice before, although none of the Macs had ever explained why the alarms had gone off and the prisoners had been gassed with an agent that left them unconscious for nearly a full day. Wallace stretched out on his cot, waiting for the knockout gas to render him unconscious and wondering if the guards had pulled the alarm because they were finally tired of listening to the Great Movie Debate.

His first hint that something was wrong was when the guard collapsed outside his cell. He'd already started to relax in anticipation of the drug hitting his system, but at the dull thud he looked up to see the Mac soldier facedown in the hallway.

"That's new," he observed aloud, although the others could no longer hear him, and wondered what exactly his CO had done to the gas dispersal system. He had no doubt that Sutton was behind it; she loved to use the enemy's own equipment against them, and the guards' negligence in not wearing gas masks when they knew that the prison had a gas dispersal system that could theoretically malfunction and leave them defenseless was the sort of hubris that Sutton had never been able to tolerate.

It was no surprise to him, then, when she appeared nearly ten minutes later, still in her guise as Lieutenant Wilson but with the addition of one of the specialized rebreathers that Wolenczak had upgraded for their team last year. He continued to be unsurprised when she drew her pistol and killed the unconscious guards without flinching, double-tapping each of them to make sure of the kill. Stassi had good reason to be afraid of her; she was calculating, thorough, and ruthless. She was also the best commanding officer he'd ever had, and he'd never been so happy to see anyone in his entire life.

The alarm stopped, the gas pulled into the vents in the ceiling. Sutton popped out her rebreather as the thermoplastic shields on the cells lifted, tossing it into the duffel she was carrying.

"Allow me to explain how this will work," she said, her voice carrying clearly into each of the cells of the hall. Wallace was disappointed to hear that the Australian accent remained, which meant she wasn't in a position to completely break her cover yet, even though she'd shucked the Macronesian uniform blouse for a plain black shirt. He really hated that accent. "I will release the cell doors one at a time. All Intelligence Security Division personnel will exit the cells but remain on this hall. There will be a short delay, and then all other personnel will proceed in an orderly fashion to the docking bay, where they will remain, in formation, until the UEO retrieval team arrives. You will touch nothing and you will not attempt to arm yourselves. All of the Macronesian personnel on this station are dead, so you will meet with no resistance. Anyone who deviates from my instructions in any way will be shot, because I am _completely_ _out of patience _for today. Understood?"

The sheer irritation in Sutton's voice was a match for any drill sergeant's most intimidating tone, and Wallace's automatic 'yes, ma'am' was echoed by all of the prisoners on Hall Three, ISD and otherwise.

She'd swiped all of the guards' RFID keys when she'd searched their bodies for weapons, and now she moved slowly down the hall, using one of the keys to release the doors. Wallace couldn't keep the grin off of his face when she reached him, even though it made the right side of his face hurt like hell.

"Always a pleasure, ma'am," he greeted her when the cell door slid back, and she rolled her eyes and shoved a firearm into his hands.

"Get with Jovasti and split the team into two squads," she replied. "Leave Graham out of the lineup."

He did as he was told, the weight of the gun delightfully familiar after months of being weaponless. It wasn't unusual for their missions to require the team to split into two or more squads, so with a little negotiation he and Jovasti had their lineups sorted out before Sutton finished opening the cells with their people in them. He was interested to see that most of the team was now armed; clearly she'd been carrying an armory's worth of firearms in that duffle.

The plan she explained to them was simple. Jovasti and his squad would escort the rest of the prisoners on their hall to the docking bay, then head for Hall Two and evacuate everyone there. Wallace's squad was responsible for Hall One, and once they'd all arrived in the docking bay they were to wait for the arrival of the retrieval team, then radio Sutton and let her know they were ready to go. All of the guards were dead, so the guns she'd given them were mostly for the sake of appearance, and for keeping the other prisoners from questioning their orders. Sutton handed RFID keys to Wallace and Jovasti, then gave short-range radios to Wallace, Lightman, and Graham, signaling for the latter to join her.

"Questions?"

"What's the ETA of the retrieval team?"

"They'll be here when they get here," was her enlightening response. Jovasti shrugged. Either she didn't know or she didn't feel that they needed to know. Either way, their team would maintain order among the prison population for as long as it took.

"We're short on weapons," Hallifeld said, which the first full sentence Wallace had heard her utter since they'd been captured three months ago. She showed her own empty hands as evidence. Shaw, on the other squad, was also unarmed.

"You _are_ weapons," Sutton replied calmly. "Or did the two of you become covert operatives solely on the basis of your charm and good looks?"

That phrase had become a common insult tossed around at ISD, stemming from a remark one of the junior MCs had made about Sutton several years ago. It had earned the junior MC a broken nose from their CO and no small amount of scorn from the teams who knew the story, and everyone who used it as an insult nowadays was careful to do so outside of Sutton's hearing. Both Hallifeld and Shaw smirked a little to have Sutton herself directing it at them. Wallace thought the retort was a masterful dodge around both their low firearm supply and the fact that he knew full well Sutton wasn't going to give Hallifeld anything more dangerous than a plastic fork before she'd passed a psych eval. Shaw was both a medic and the worst shot on the team, so leaving him unarmed wasn't a bad choice and made it less obvious that she was singling Hallifeld out.

"While they're clearing the halls, what are we going to be doing?" Graham asked, looking over at Sutton, who smiled.

"You and I are going to rig up an explosion that'll blow this entire station to dust."

Graham's beatific expression at being given the opportunity to blow up the station sent Demarin and Kennedy into a fit of laughter that not even Sutton's raised eyebrow could stifle.

* * *

Laughlin's hands tightened on her rifle as her team lined up at the hatch of the launch. They'd just docked with the Macronesian station where the UEO prisoners were being held, and they had no idea how much resistance they were going to encounter.

It wasn't as strange taking tactical orders from an intel coordinator as she'd thought it might be. Wolenczak was surprisingly adept, probably from years of being partnered with the best mission coordinator in ISD. Callahan had stridently disagreed that there could even be a station down here until Ortiz had spotted it with the WSKRS, so Laughlin was a little relieved that she wasn't the one orchestrating the retrieval mission.

The hatch cycled open and Laughlin followed Chief Young onto the station, ready for anything but what she saw.

All of the POWs were lined up in neat ranks inside the docking bay, standing at parade rest in their lines. They all wore the red jumpsuits that the Macronesians used in their prisons, and they were barefoot, but other than those minor details they might have been a proper military company awaiting inspection.

"Hold position, please," instructed a familiar voice, and she and Young both turned to see Mike Wallace heading toward them, his easy smile marred only by the bruising on his face. "Young, Laughlin, Hardy," he greeted them cheerfully. "I should've known she'd manage to get one of our own teams down here to pull us out."

Young had always been quick on the uptake. He surveyed the docking bay now with an air of regret.

"You don't actually need our help, do you?"

"Aw, don't be that way, Young," Wallace told him. "Lieutenant Wilson was kind enough to take care of the heavy lifting for you, is all. We still need your transportation."

"It only seats fifteen per trip," Young replied as the rest of his team exited the launch and lined up to his left. "Our orders are to evacuate thirteen people from the station on each trip, along with two of ours as an escort."

"Fifty-eight of us, including Lieutenant Wilson, plus the twelve of you distributed evenly across the number of launch trips…" Wallace made a face. "One of the things I like best about this job is the lack of complex math."

"Five trips total, Chief," Laughlin volunteered, and received surprised looks from both chiefs. "I didn't work it out," she added, dislodging her comset from her ear and offering it to Wallace. "Commander Wolenczak did. He wants to talk to you."

She was glad to hand the comset over to Wallace. She'd volunteered to keep her comset turned to a private channel rather than the general one the team was using so that Wolenczak could have a private line to use with his undercover contact, but it was a little unnerving.

"Grace?"

Laughlin turned, her first name sounding unfamiliar in the surroundings, and found herself face to face with another old friend. One who'd fared poorly over the last several months, if her appearance was anything to go by.

"Diane," she said, gently, and let her rifle fall to her side as she put an arm around Diane Hallifeld's thin shoulders.

* * *

Sutton's instructions had been clear and simple. Wolenczak's orders were equally clear and simple, but unfortunately they contradicted Sutton's, which put Jovasti in an uncomfortable position. Per Sutton's orders, they were all to remain in the docking bay supervising the evacuation until the last launch was ready to depart. Wolenczak wanted to talk to Sutton, now, which meant Jovasti would have to send someone to her in the engineering sector of the station with Laughlin's comset. He looked to Wallace - if not for advice, then for someone to share the inevitable fallout of whatever decision they made, since Wallace was the other CPO on the team - but he was still over by the launch, helping to sort out which set of prisoners would be leaving first.

There were many pieces of sage NCO advice he'd taken to heart over the years, and this was maybe the most important one: _When the officers start arguing, stay out of it._ He weighed his options and decided that he'd rather let Sutton and Wolenczak argue with each other than with him.

"Lightman?"

"Chief?"

He handed Lightman the comset. "Take your radio and go deliver that to Lieutenant Wilson in engineering. If she's unhappy about it, tell her to take it up with the commander."

"Yes, sir," he replied, in a tone that turned the words into 'why me?', but at least he didn't stick around to whine about the assignment. Wallace seemed to sense when the danger had passed, and he reappeared at Jovasti's side as Lightman cleared the doors to the station at a jog.

"He's taking the comset to her?"

"Yep."

"Better him than me."

"Yep."

They shared a glance of complete accord, then returned to watching as the first launch departed, the second docking moments later. Sutton and Wolenczak might not always see eye to eye, but they sure knew how to coordinate one hell of a prison break.


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: T rating for a little expressive language.

* * *

049. They awoke together, hand in hand.

* * *

The atmosphere in the last launch was decidedly celebratory, despite the time constraint they were now functioning under. Graham had rigged the station's power supply into a feedback loop that would overpower the circuit and set off a chain of explosions that would reduce the entire station to its component atoms, which meant the pilot of the launch had approximately seven minutes to get back to _seaQuest _before the shockwaves from the blast would knock the small launch and everyone in it ass over teakettle.

Zeta Team considered that to be the pilot's problem, however, and since they weren't the ones piloting the launch, most of them were now busy hearing all of the news that they'd missed in the past few months from Young and Hardy. Hallifeld and Laughlin were sitting together toward the back of the launch, engaged in a quiet conversation and not paying any attention to the others. Martinez was sitting closest to them, and appeared to be listening to both conversations although she wasn't currently contributing to either of them.

Sophie sat next to Jovasti, watching all of them with a decidedly maternal eye and trying to ignore the tight feeling in her chest. She'd done what was necessary to save her team, and here was the proof. Here they were, alive and well and joking with each other as the launch sped them to safety. It had all been worth it, every last -

Between one breath and the next, the numbing patch she'd slapped onto her injured arm abruptly wore off. A sharp hiss escaped through her clenched teeth as the pain surged back, her arm throbbing. Jovasti heard her, of course, and before she'd managed to pull herself together he was kneeling in front of her, concern in his dark eyes as he ordered Shaw to find the launch's first aid kit.

"Where?" he asked succinctly.

"Left arm," she replied, wincing as he reached for the long sleeve of the shirt she'd donned to cover the wound. "Don't. Just cut off the sleeve."

She didn't have to direct him to the knife in her boot; he'd worked with her for a long time, and he knew she always carried at least one. He cut the seam of the shirt at her shoulder, his hands careful as he slid the now disconnected sleeve down to her wrist.

"At least you bandaged it," he said, shaking his head at the haphazard mass of bloody gauze on his CO's arm.

"It's just a graze," she disclaimed, and then bit back a yelp as he peeled away the old dressing and patch. "_Ow_."

"Stop getting shot and I'll stop having to treat you," was his unimpressed response to her glare. "Shaw?"

Between the two medics, they got the wound bandaged faster and far more professionally than she'd managed to do it initially, although in her defense she'd been working one-handed. The new numbing patch kicked in within seconds, and she felt some of the tension start to leave her muscles when the pain disappeared.

"How did you get shot?"

"It involved a guy with a gun," she replied, a little sharper than she'd intended, but it didn't seem to faze Demarin. "There were thirty-two Macronesian personnel on the station and only one of me. You do the math."

"Did you go with the Wyatt Earp method?" He left off the 'ma'am' that belonged at the end of that question, but she was still officially undercover, so she let it slide. Young and Hardy were still eyeing her with suspicion, so there were at least a few people on the launch who hadn't clued in to her real identity.

"It's technically only a Wyatt Earp if you don't get shot doing it." Graham frowned when Wallace gave him a look. "What? He was the only one at the O.K. Corral who didn't get shot. That's the whole point of the name."

With that, they were off again, bickering about potential ways of taking over a hostile facility that minimized the odds of being shot. Sophie considered ordering them to shove it, since it irritated her to have her methods questioned after she'd saved their collective asses. They weren't really criticizing her methods, though, just engaging in the kind of debate that made them the best tactical team in the UEO, and it was an opportunity for them to vent off a little excess energy.

They didn't seem to expect her to participate in the discussion, which meant she could slump back in her seat and relax. She pulled Laughlin's comset out of her pocket, looking at it without really seeing it. She'd been short with Wolenczak over the com, unable to afford the distraction he represented while she was in the middle of helping Graham rig the power feeds. Even from the brief conversation they'd had, she could tell that the last few months hadn't been any more fun for him than they had for her. He'd sounded strained, and she wondered how he'd adjusted to the reappearance of the _seaQuest _and his subsequent reassignment to the boat. Her gut feeling was that the answer was 'poorly'.

The pilot gave them a warning, and a moment later the launch bounced a little as the docking clamps attached. Jovasti and Wallace were both looking at her, but she waved them off.

"Commander Wolenczak intends to meet you in the docking bay," she told them. "Go ahead and disembark first. I'll hang back with Chief Young and his people."

They did as she instructed, leaving her sitting with the three members of Sigma Team as they headed through the hatch together.

* * *

Without discussion, the team split into two lines as they disembarked from the launch, Wallace and Jovasti in front and the others arrayed behind them. Wolenczak was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, his expression equal parts relief and concern, and Wallace resisted the urge to smile. In his opinion, Wolenczak was the best intel coordinator in ISD, and he was also the best partner Sutton could have, his laid-back approach a good complement to her extraordinarily intense management style. Keeping his emotions off of his face, however, was not exactly his strong suit.

When they were all in formation, they saluted Wolenczak in unison, who returned the gesture with feeling.

"Zeta Team," he greeted them warmly. "Welcome back."

"Thank you, sir," they chorused, and he nodded.

"Chief Petty Officers Jovasti and Wallace."

"Sir," they both replied immediately, awaiting his orders.

"Lieutenant Brody is the head of security onboard _seaQuest_." Lucas indicated Brody with a tilt of his head. "He will escort your team to Cargo Bay Three, where all of the personnel from the prison are being temporarily housed. If you -"

He was interrupted by the shockwave that rocked the boat. He managed to stay on his feet, but Brody and three of the members of Zeta Team stumbled. His move to catch Brody was automatic, and Zeta Team was still in close ranks, so they merely bumped into one another. No one actually hit the ground.

"Petty Officer Graham?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Is it safe to assume that the percussive blast means the Macronesian station has been reduced to its component parts?"

"There may have been a malfunction with the power supply, sir," Graham replied, barely able to repress his glee at the explosion. "Judging from the intensity of that shockwave, sir, I suspect that most of those component parts are now so much particulate debris."

"How unfortunate," Wolenczak replied dryly. "I suspect the Macronesians will be disappointed not to be able to search the station for clues on how this miraculous escape was enacted. As I was saying, if any of you encounter any problems while aboard the boat, notify either me or Lieutenant Callahan, who is the mission coordinator currently assigned to Sigma Team."

A choked laugh escaped someone toward the back of his line, but Jovasti couldn't immediately identify who it was and no one was likely to own up to it.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, sir," they chorused swiftly, Jovasti resolving to find out who'd slipped and give them a smack upside the head for it. It didn't matter how they felt about Callahan or how surprised they were to hear that she was working with Wolenczak, there was no excuse for making the team look unprofessional in front of their IC or an outsider.

Wolenczak didn't seem interested in pursuing it, which was a relief. Instead he dismissed them into Lieutenant Brody's care and returned his attention to the still-open hatch of the launch. He was waiting for Sutton, Jovasti realized, which was why he wasn't making an issue of the breach of protocol.

Jovasti didn't bother to hide his smile as he and Wallace led their team out of the docking bay after Lieutenant Brody. Sutton had probably been undercover for at least several weeks leading up to the prison break, and even if she and Wolenczak had managed to stay in contact, he was sure the intel coordinator wanted to see for himself that his partner had survived intact. They were cute together - not that he would ever voice that opinion, of course. Sutton would string him up by his toes if she found out, and one thing he'd learned after years of working with her was that she _always _found out.

* * *

Young, Hardy, and Laughlin arrayed themselves in a loose ring around Sophie as they entered the docking bay, decidedly more reminiscent of a prisoner escort than an honor guard. They had no idea who she really was, however, and therefore she was treated as a potential threat. She supposed she should be grateful they weren't frog-marching her down the stairs to where Wolenczak was waiting.

The sight of him would have stopped her in her tracks if she hadn't been steeling herself against just that response since they'd docked. He looked terrible, haggard and drawn, and for some godforsaken reason he'd grown his hair out to a distinctly piratical length. She'd be cutting _that _off for him at the first opportunity, whether or not he consented to the procedure.

His gaze met hers with an electric jolt so powerful she was surprised that Chief Young, standing next to her, didn't seem to notice that anything unusual had happened. Behind her and to the left, outside of her field of vision, Laughlin had straightened abruptly for no apparent reason, but Hardy remained unaffected.

"Chief Young, take your people and join the rest of your team in Cargo Bay Three." His voice was raw, as though he'd spent the better part of his day shouting. "Lieutenant Wilson, you're with me."

They were both silent as he led her through a series of passageways, down to a different section of the boat, and she watched as he keyed open first the outer door and then the inner door to what had to be the most secure room on the boat. When both doors to the otherwise empty room were safely sealed behind them, Lucas turned to face her. They stared at each other for a long moment, the tension becoming almost unbearable.

Sophie moved first, flinging herself across the short distance and into his embrace. He held her tightly to his chest, pressing his face into her hair as his eyes stung with tears. He thought she was trembling, but it could just as easily have been him.

He had no idea how long they stood there, just holding each other. Eventually Sophie pulled away, swiping at her eyes, and Lucas was belatedly surprised to realize that she'd been crying.

"Hey," he said gently, cupping her face with his hands and using his thumbs to wipe away the remnants of the tear tracks on her face. "Hey. Don't cry." He offered her a watery smile. "You're home."

"You're crying," she pointed out, reaching up to return the favor and smoothing away his tears with her fingers.

"Yeah, but I'm supposed to. I'm the emotional one, remember?"

Her smile was uncertain, almost as though she'd forgotten how, and she shrugged.

"It's been a long couple of months." She took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders, then took his hands in hers, tugging them down away from her face. "I need to talk to Lowry."

"Now?"

"I'm supposed to report in ASAP." A strand of dark hair had fallen into her eyes, and she made a face as she pushed it impatiently away. "And I need permission to officially drop the cover ID. I want my real hair back, and the contacts make my eyes itch."

He choked on a laugh. That was the Sophie he knew.

"Vidlink's in the corner. I'll set up the call."

* * *

Lucas was only half-listening as Sophie talked with Admiral Lowry about the prison break. The majority of his attention and willpower went to keeping his hands behind his back and his eyes forward on the vidscreen when all he wanted to do was cut the vid connection to Lowry, then pull Sophie back into his arms and never let her go. Sophie did get his full attention when, after telling Lowry about the first prison she'd infiltrated, she offered to stay undercover and return to break out the Section Seven operatives being held there. His hands clenched behind his back; she couldn't possibly be serious. Thankfully, the admiral turned down the offer with only a moment's contemplation, telling her that he'd pass the information along and if Section Seven wanted their people back, they could go get them themselves. He wanted Commander Sutton back from the dead and stationed on _seaQuest_, seemingly to aggravate Stassi as much as anything else.

His final decisions were more or less what Lucas had expected, with a few unlooked-for perks. The _Dauntless_, a Trident-class SpecOps sub, would rendezvous with _seaQuest _in three days to pick up all of the rescued prisoners and ferry them back to New Cape Quest. Zeta Team would return to headquarters for full debriefing, medical clearance, and psych evals, and Sigma Team would remain aboard _seaQuest _until Zeta Team was cleared for active duty, at which point they would switch places. Sophie and Lucas would remain on _seaQuest _for the duration. Callahan was being transferred back to headquarters.

After relaying that last happy piece of news, the admiral signed off, presumably to call Section Seven and toy with them a little before giving them the information about their missing team. Sophie leaned back in the desk chair, giving Lucas a smile.

"I guess you're stuck with me again."

"Thank God." His tone was fervent. "I'm not sure what was worse, being without you or being stuck with Callahan."

"I don't think that comparison is particularly flattering." She paused, considering. "Although I'm not sure it's actually insulting, either. Six of one, half a dozen of the other."

"Maybe I should go and check on the team," he said, a little reluctantly, and she rose from the chair as she put her hands on her hips.

"Were you listening at all when Lowry was talking?"

"I heard the part where you offered to go back undercover to rescue that Section Seven team." He sounded offended, and she rolled her eyes.

"I was the one reporting the situation, Lucas. It was my responsibility to offer. There was no way he was actually going to take me up on it." He looked skeptical, but she continued. "While you were lost in thought, Lowry relieved us both of active duty for the next twenty-four hours."

"Why would he do that?"

"Maybe because we both look like hell," she said flatly. "I fully intend to spend most of that time sleeping, and I think it would do you some good, too."

"What about the team?" Lucas was hesitant. It had been so long since he'd taken any time for himself that now, when things were finally coming to a head, it seemed wrong to be taking a step back.

"They're big kids," she replied, her tone very dry. "They stayed alive for three months in a secret underwater Macronesian prison. They can take care of themselves for twenty-four hours aboard one of our own submarines."

"And Hallifeld?" He hadn't missed her bleak expression or the faraway look in her eyes, which meant there was no way it had slipped past Sophie's notice. "She looks terrible. Is it because of Carter?"

"That's my guess," she agreed. "She'll be all right. The sisterhood will take care of her."

"Sisterhood?"

Sophie shrugged. "ISD enlisted personnel is less than thirty percent women, Lucas. They all know each other and they all take care of each other. Martinez, Laughlin…" She hesitated, clearly trying to run through Sigma Team's roster in her head, and eventually gave up. "…and whoever the hell else on Sigma Team has a pair of ovaries. They'll all be sticking close to Hallifeld, and she's more likely to let them see her hurting if we're not there. You know none of our people would ever show that kind of weakness to either one of us."

"What about Callahan? Do you think she'll be getting in on the girl power movement?"

She snorted this time, amused despite herself. "Callahan's an officer. She's also a self-absorbed bitch whose greatest claims to fame are a failed affair with Jack and the fact that I once broke her nose when she got mouthy with me. She wouldn't spit on someone if they were on fire unless she thought it would further her career, and probably not even then if it meant helping someone on my team."

"You know, you can be honest with me. Tell me how you really feel about her." He paused then, realizing something he'd never put together before. "Wait. The junior MC who made that crack about you being all charm and good looks, the one whose nose you broke - that was _Callahan_? No wonder she hates me! It's not even about me, it's about you!"

"I don't doubt it. She's one of the worst officers I've ever had the misfortune to work with. I can't believe they haven't gotten rid of her yet, and I really can't believe they stuck you with her as your mission coordinator."

"Apparently, it's because they thought I was a traitor."

Sophie's expression was priceless, and almost made the aggravation he'd gone through with Callahan worthwhile.

"Who could _possibly _think that you were a traitor?"

"You're not the first person to have that reaction," he told her. "There was some noise from some of the MCs, after you died and then Zeta Team was captured, that I might've had something to do with it. When the _seaQuest _reappeared, Callahan decided that I'd betrayed you in exchange for Bourne returning the _seaQuest _and her crew. Not that she's been able to prove that Bourne had anything to do with the disappearance, but that didn't seem to stop her from launching an investigation into me and the entire crew of the boat."

"But that's insane," she protested. "Lowry knew I was alive -" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "But of course he couldn't tell Callahan that, because it was a secret. Damn it." Sophie rubbed a hand over her eyes, suddenly weary. "I'm so sorry, Lucas. I should have seen this coming."

"How could you have seen this coming?" he asked reasonably. "You had no idea that the _seaQuest _was going to reappear."

She sighed, and he knew that reason had nothing to do with it. It was true that she couldn't have anticipated this, but that wasn't going to stop her from feeling guilty about it.

"So if Lowry okayed you ditching your cover, when are you going back to blonde?"

Distracting her from the guilt, however, was still a valid option.

"Right now," she said decisively, all thoughts of self-recrimination gone in the face of her renewed desire to have her own appearance back. "I don't suppose you have any dye dissociator tucked away in this lab anywhere."

"I can do you one better." He went over to one of the storage compartments in the lab, returning with a nondescript black duffle. "Here."

She opened it and stared at the contents for a long moment, then turned to him.

"This is my gear."

"It's the bag you kept at my place," he confirmed. "I brought it to _seaQuest _in case…" Lucas paused, then shook his head. "No. I just wanted to have it with me. I wanted something of yours."

"You have my gun," she pointed out, trying not to let her voice show how much his words affected her. The kiss he pressed to the top of her head as his arms wrapped around her from behind told her she hadn't succeeded. "Unless that's somebody else's XE-9 on your hip."

"It's yours," he agreed, his breath warm against her ear. "I knew you wouldn't want it to sit around in a drawer while you were gone."

"You're right." She let her eyes fall momentarily shut as his lips brushed against the curve of her ear. "You also knew I was going to want it back, right?"

"I have my eight with me, sitting around in a drawer," he replied, amused. "Say the word and the nine is all yours again. It was always yours, Sophie."

"Hmm. Good."

She rifled through the contents of the bag one-handed. Spare uniform, which would definitely come in handy. Clean tank top, several pairs of socks and underwear, two spare magazines for the XE-9 in question…

"There," she murmured with satisfaction, coming up with a clear plastic bag holding several full bottles. "Dye dissociator _and _a deep conditioner. Perfect." She turned around in his embrace, pushing up on her toes to give him a quick kiss. "Give me a hand with this?"

"Sure, but there's no way we're both going to fit in that shower."

"You suffer from a severe lack of imagination, Wolenczak."

* * *

She maintained that position until she actually saw the shower, and then she had to admit that he might have a point. 'Shower' was a generous word to describe the tiny cubicle in the lab's equally tiny head, and unless he'd come up with some new method of bending the rules of physics, there really was no way they could share it.

"Keep me company, anyway," she said finally, so he sat on the closed toilet lid and gave her an overview of the events of the past three months while she used the dye dissociator to rinse the dark coloring out of her hair. He'd bypassed the water restriction that was originally built into all of the showers onboard the sub, and he had no intention of telling her that the usual time limit was two minutes. Sophie had nearly been killed saving the lives of over fifty UEO prisoners of war, and if she wanted to luxuriate under the steamy spray of the shower for the rest of the day, he figured that was the least the _seaQuest _could offer her.

He wasn't able to answer her questions about how the _seaQuest _had reappeared or where it had been for the past ten years, since he still didn't know, but he did relate some of the stories about things that had happened with the crew since they'd returned. She particularly enjoyed the story of Katie Hitchcock following him to his last meeting with Pike and Smith, and didn't seem surprised that the two men had defected from Macronesia and effectively disappeared.

"It was only a matter of time," she told him over the noise of the shower. "Most assets don't last as long as they did."

"They were afraid to quit while you were their contact. That might've had something to do with it."

"That's sweet," she said, and he looked askance at the shower door. Sophie had some odd ideas about what constituted a nice gesture.

She listened in silence to his story about the psychic pulse weapon, Lucas disclosing to her the content of the memories that the others had observed. He figured he wouldn't have to wait long for the inevitable fallout, but Sophie stayed quiet until he couldn't stand the tension.

"Sophie? Listen, I'm sorry about what they saw -"

The water turned off abruptly, the towel disappearing from where it hung over the door, and a moment later he was face to face with his partner as he remembered her: blonde hair, green eyes, classically unreadable expression.

"Lucas," she said, and he relaxed at the soft note in her voice. If she was angry, it wasn't at him. "It's not your fault."

"I never expected that anyone was going to see the memories I picked," he continued, not sure why he was still apologizing, and she cut him off effectively with a kiss that left him breathless.

"It's not your fault," she repeated, grabbing a second towel and sitting down on his lap. His arms went around her automatically, and he took the spare towel and started to dry her hair with it. "And it's not like nobody knows we're lovers. The list of people at ISD who _don't_ know is probably the shorter of the two."

"You think so?"

"Well, Lowry knows," she said dryly, and his hands stilled.

"You're serious."

"He's the admiral," she pointed out. "Sooner or later, he was going to find out. Notice I didn't say that he _cared_." She paused, looking over at him. "Of course, you realize my hair is still wet."

It wasn't a question, and he went back to toweling her hair as he contemplated the idea that Lowry knew about the two of them.

"He really doesn't care?"

"Why should he? We're the best pair he has. He's not going to punish us or split us up just because we fell in love."

That brought him to a dead stop. He set the towel down, tilting her chin up to bring her gaze to his.

"Did you just say the L word?"

She smiled serenely, and the unexpectedness of it left him momentarily dumbstruck.

"Are you saying -"

"Don't push it," she advised, and he nodded slowly. She'd actually used the word in connection with their relationship, and they weren't even in a life-threatening situation. It wasn't a frank 'I love you', but it was a step in the right direction. "Now, should I just give up and dry my own hair? Because you seem to be having real trouble focusing."

He picked up the towel again, dedicating himself to the task with renewed vigor.

* * *

Cargo Bay Three was the largest cargo bay on the boat and was usually designated for the transport of bulky machinery, although _seaQuest _wasn't currently carrying anything in her inventory that needed to be stored there. With the help of Ben Krieg and several of the off-duty security officers, Dr. Smith's team had set up nearly sixty cots in the empty cargo bay, and now the room was filled to capacity with POWs in red jumpsuits, medical staff in blue, and UEO officers in their uniforms.

Ben Krieg was everywhere, bringing food and supplies to the POWs, hunting down medical supplies for Dr. Smith's people, and avoiding Lieutenant Callahan. To his shock, he recognized one group of prisoners as the team he'd seen in Lucas's memory. No wonder the kid had been so driven to coordinate this rescue.

The team had dropped a couple of interesting pieces of gossip that he'd overheard while he'd been ferrying supplies back and forth. The most interesting to Ben was that they found Lieutenant Callahan's presence onboard amusing. Apparently, she and the late Commander Sutton had gotten into an altercation several years ago that resulted in Sutton punching her squarely in the face and breaking her nose. Sutton had gotten away with it because they'd been in the gym at the time and ostensibly they'd been sparring, although it was clear to Ben from the way the team talked about it that Sutton had done it to make a point. It made sense, really, that there was more to Callahan's dislike for Lucas than just her delusional beliefs about him being a traitor. If Callahan had hated Sutton, it wasn't hard to imagine that she'd also harbored a fair amount of dislike for her partner.

The other interesting thing he'd picked up was that none of the members of her team had known that Commander Sutton was dead. Apparently, she'd been in a coma when they'd been captured. Oddly enough, they didn't seem devastated by the news, although several of them wondered aloud about how Wolenczak had fared over the past few months without either them or Sutton around. Ben wanted to defend the _seaQuest _crew's ability to help their friend, to point out that Lucas hadn't been alone all that time, but he would have had to admit to eavesdropping on their conversation and he wasn't that foolish. They didn't seem like they'd take kindly to being spied on.

Currently, Ben was handing out the clothes he'd gathered so that the rescued personnel could change out of the prison jumpsuits they'd arrived in. Ship's stores had only contained twenty extra uniforms, and although Sickbay had a large stack of hospital gowns, he doubted anyone really wanted to be walking around the cargo bay with their _assets_ hanging out of the backs of the gowns. All of the other clothing he'd managed to accumulate belonged to the _seaQuest _crew: spare uniforms with the ID patches hurriedly removed, civilian clothing and workout gear and whatever else people had on hand. They'd even donated socks, shoes, and in one ensign's case a pair of fuzzy pink slippers, so that the refugees wouldn't have to go barefoot.

They'd also offered a multitude of other things when Ben had let it be known that he was asking for donations: books, vids, audio players, spare blankets and pillows, toiletries, and their personal stashes of food products that weren't available from ship's stores, like candy and baked goods sent to them by family members. Ben was practically bursting with pride at how quickly the crew had pulled together to help the people they'd rescued. This was what being in the military was about. Even though the crew didn't personally know any of these people, they were all a part of the same organization and fighting for the same cause, and so they were willing to do whatever they could to make them more comfortable.

* * *

Lucas kept a small LED light plugged in at the foot of the bed when he slept. Any of the _seaQuest _crew would have made a joke about him being afraid of the dark, but he'd actually picked up the habit from Sophie. It removed the advantage that a hypothetical intruder wearing night-vision goggles would have in total darkness, it allowed for faster reorientation when awakened in the middle of the night, and it lowered the odds that he'd stub his toe if he got up to go to the bathroom.

It also let him watch Sophie sleep, the dim light allowing him to see her peaceful countenance. It was just like a thousand other nights he'd spent with her next to him, but it felt different now that he'd spent so many nights without her. He'd felt incomplete without her, hollow and empty, but it wasn't until he had her back that he truly realized how much harder things had been without her. She wasn't just his lover or his teammate or his friend. She was his partner, the person who knew him better than anyone else in the world, and he loved her more than he'd known was even possible.

She shifted slightly, as though his intense contemplation had managed to wake her, and a moan escaped her as her eyes fluttered open.

"Hey," he murmured, his hand brushing her hair away from her face. "You okay?"

"Mmph." Sophie's gaze caught his, her eyes clouded with sleep and pain. "Numbing patch wore off."

Lucas pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Stay here," he told her, slipping out of bed and padding barefoot across to the desk, where he'd left his first aid kit. He brought the whole thing back over to the bed, setting it down in the spot where he'd been sleeping. Sophie hadn't moved, merely watching him as he pulled out the supplies he needed to change the dressing on her arm.

He pulled back the blanket to expose her injured arm, leaning down to kiss to her shoulder and drawing a smile from her. He made short work of the dressing change; after years of working with her and Zeta Team, he'd certainly had enough practice at that sort of thing. The first aid kit he deposited on the floor next to the bed, making a mental note not to trip over it in the morning. Or afternoon, or whatever; his sense of time was completely adrift at this point.

A glance at his watch showed that it was just after 1500 hours. They'd both passed out around 0800, which made this an impressive nap.

"You have someplace to be?"

Lucas looked over at Sophie, noting with satisfaction that the discomfort he'd seen before was gone. The numbing patches weren't always a viable option, depending on the injury, and they could sometimes delay healing, but he vastly preferred them to seeing her in pain.

"Just trying to reorient myself," he replied. "We missed lunch."

She gave a one-shoulder shrug, the blanket slipping down a little. "We missed breakfast," she pointed out. "We survived."

"You should eat."

"I'd rather sleep."

Lucas shook his head but went over to one of the cabinets in the lab and grabbed two cans of the nutritional supplement shakes he used when he didn't want to bother going to the mess to get a meal. He tossed one, unopened, to Sophie, who caught it easily but looked unimpressed.

"I don't suppose they've managed to make these taste like anything since I've been gone."

He snorted. "You haven't been gone that long."

He got back into bed as she fumbled the tab on hers open one-handed. She raised her can to him and they toasted wryly with the flavorless supplements.

"To numbing patches."

"To sleeping in."

She drained her can nearly as quickly as he did. The best policy with those supplements was just to down them as fast as possible and try not to taste them. He set his empty can next to hers on the nightstand and relaxed back against the mattress, Sophie's leg nudging his as she snuggled up next to him.

"Are you going back to sleep?" she asked, resting the palm of her hand against his bare chest. His fingers moved to cover hers, squeezing her hand.

"Did you have something else in mind?"

"Well, here's the two of us, all alone in this room in a nice big bed," she murmured, nuzzling at the side of his neck. "Nothing we have to do until tomorrow morning…"

He slid his hand behind her head, pulling her in for a slow, sensual kiss. She moaned softly and he rolled them both over, supporting his weight above her as she tugged her top off over her head, careful of her injured arm. They made love tenderly, their bodies moving so in sync that it felt as though they'd never been apart.

When they were finished, both of them sated and spent, Sophie laid her head down on his chest, his heartbeat strong beneath her ear.

"I missed you," she whispered, the words barely audible over the sounds of their breathing. Lucas ran his hand along the curve of her bare back and smiled contentedly.

"I love you," he replied, and felt her smile against his skin.

He wasn't sure which one of them fell asleep first. When morning finally came and his bedside alarm went off, they awoke together, hand in hand.


	34. Chapter 34

A/N: The 50 Passages challenge consists of fifty lines from the Lord of the Rings trilogy, which probably explains the questionable grammar of this prompt - it's a Gollum quote.

* * *

001. I knew I'd want it, if I hadn't got it!

* * *

Cargo Bay Three now resembled a bizarre cross between a college dorm and a street fair. Its only resemblance to military barracks was in the physical environment of the sub and the occasional uniform, including those worn by the security detail guarding the doors. The medical staff had cleared out late the previous night, having found little to treat other than the psychological trauma that was an inevitable consequence of captivity, and that was something they couldn't deal with in the limited time they had. Most of the space was now taken up with the various odds and ends that the _seaQuest _crew had donated to the rescued UEO personnel, who were themselves mostly garbed in the civilian clothes and sweats that Ben Krieg had rounded up for them.

Sophie wasn't fazed by either the appearance of the cargo bay or the noise created by three different audio players and a vidset that was currently turned to a news channel competing with the chatter of nearly sixty people who were seated or sprawled across cots or open floor space. Her focus was the small knot of personnel sitting toward the far right corner of the room, and she made her way across the space with Wolenczak half a step behind her. Lightman was the first one to spot the two of them, and he got Wallace's attention by the expedient measure of kicking the chief in the leg. Wallace spun, but before he could rebuke Lightman he caught sight of his officers.

"Zeta Team," he declared loudly, his best parade-ground voice cutting easily through the ambient noise in the room. "Commanding officer on deck!"

Given the situation and the fact that half the team had been lying down when Wallace made the announcement, Sophie was impressed with the speed at which they surged to their feet and snapped to attention. The room fell miraculously silent with the exception of the vidset, which was droning on about a suspected top-secret military action that had taken place off the Macronesian coast. Someone on the other side of the room fumbled with the controls, and the broadcast ceased abruptly.

Sophie was amused to see that, despite the limited supply of uniforms that Lieutenant Krieg had been able to procure, all of her people had managed to get their hands on one. The boot shortage was apparently more severe, and several of them were wearing decidedly non-regulation footwear.

"Interesting choice, Petty Officer," she told Demarin, who was inexplicably wearing a pair of bright pink bedroom slippers that looked several sizes too small for him.

"Thank you, Commander," he replied, all seriousness, and she made a concerted effort not to smile.

"It's good to see you all back in uniform. Chief Wallace, Chief Jovasti, a moment of your time. The rest of you, as you were."

Wallace and Jovasti stepped away from the others, who'd taken her at her word and were now flopping back down into their previous relaxed positions. Kennedy returned to his cot and gave every appearance of going immediately back to sleep. Graham and Martinez resumed their game of chess without any sign that three seconds ago they'd been standing at rigid attention, prepared to carry out any order she might give.

She had really missed this team.

She and Wolenczak were moving with the team chiefs toward the corner of the room when a familiar voice stopped them.

"Bloody effing hell." The speaker, a scruffy-looking man in jeans and an academy swim team sweatshirt, had his arms folded across his chest and a knowing expression on his face. "I'd heard that you'd finally corked it, Sutton."

He sounded pleased at the idea. Beside her, Wolenczak stiffened, and she knew without looking that Wallace and Jovasti had moved to flank her, putting on a show of strength against the perceived threat. She flicked her hand once in the direction of the rest of the team, giving them a tacit instruction to stay put. If she ever got to a point where she needed help dealing with a single disgruntled Section Seven operative, she hoped they'd put her out of her misery instead of getting into a fistfight on her behalf.

"I heard the same thing about you, Griffin." She smiled, showing a little more tooth than was strictly necessary. "I guess we can't always get what we want."

"Life's full of little disappointments," Griffin agreed. "For instance, I'm a little disappointed you didn't stick with the Australian accent. Personally I think it's cute on you - or on Lieutenant Wilson, I guess, since you didn't lose any time ditching the rest of the disguise either."

There was a long pause, during which Ben Krieg, standing near the door to the cargo bay and doing his best to appear inconspicuous, was pretty sure Sutton was just going to draw her gun and shoot the man. When he'd realized that the woman with Lucas was his dead partner, he'd looked immediately at Lucas to see how he was doing. It had to have been a shock for him to find out that she was alive - it was a shock for _Ben_, and he didn't even know Sutton. Lucas's appearance had allayed Ben's worries: the stress and exhaustion that had become a permanent fixture on the kid's face were gone, and he looked as though, after months of struggling to find his footing, he was securely on solid ground again.

That's how he'd looked before Griffin spoke, anyway. Now he looked like he might beat Sutton to the punch and shoot the guy wearing Ben's old sweatshirt. That would be unfortunate, since they'd just gone to all the trouble to rescue these people. Also, Ben liked that sweatshirt.

"There's no point denying it," Griffin added calmly. "I thought Wilson looked familiar. When she put your old team in charge of the coordinating the evacuation, it was quite the big clue. Now that you're standing here, apparently not dead…" He shrugged. "We're not all of us idiots."

"Just some of you," she replied, the intonation indicating he was one of them. Two or three of the observers snickered, but all of Sutton's people stayed silent, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "If you're convinced that I'm the one who orchestrated the prison break, you might aim for a response a little closer to the realm of 'thank you'."

"Thank you." Griffin's bravado had fallen away, and there was now real appreciation audible in his voice. "You might have done all of this to save your own team, but they weren't the only ones you saved. My people won't forget that."

Something passed between them, and Sutton gave him a slow nod.

"I heard a rumor that someone spotted the rest of your team," she said finally. "Alive, and being held in a different facility. You might want to check with your division."

A moment's worth of hope flashed across Griffin's face, painful in its intensity. Sophie turned away, leading her people over to the corner and leaving Griffin behind. She'd offered to go back to the first prison to retrieve Griffin's team, but Lowry had decided not to send her back in. Despite the fact that she and Griffin were usually at odds with one another and were as likely to stab each other in the back as they were to help each other, she hoped that Section Seven brought his team home safely. Nearly losing her own team had given her a new perspective on what that could do to a person, and she didn't wish it even on Griffin.

"Alex Griffin?" Lucas asked, once the four of them were safely out of earshot of the rest of the room. "The jackass from Section Seven?"

"One and the same," she agreed, but was distracted by Wallace's bemused expression. "Wallace, did you find something about that exchange confusing?"

"Just impressed by your diplomacy, ma'am," Wallace said, which was the truth. Sutton had never been known for her ability to play well with others. "Is that why they promoted you?"

She resisted the urge to reach up and touch the full commander's bars that Lucas had handed her without comment this morning to replace the lieutenant commander's insignia on her old uniform. "I suspect my posthumous promotion had more to do with Wolenczak's desire not to be listed as the ranking officer in charge of your team of miscreants than anything else."

Wallace's sharp look told her he'd caught the subtext there, and she was confident that no one else on the team would be bringing up her promotion in front of Wolenczak. She could guess why he'd pushed the admiral to promote her even though she was officially dead, and it had little to do with Zeta Team. He didn't need them shoving his insecurities or his fear of losing her in his face, even accidentally.

She changed the subject and reviewed Admiral Lowry's orders with them, which was the reason they'd come down here in the first place. It didn't take long, and when they were finished Lucas asked Jovasti how the rest of the team was coping. His response was encouraging, especially his report that Hallifeld had improved dramatically since the rescue. She was talking more now, and she'd actually laughed at one of Demarin's jokes this morning. Lucas didn't doubt that she was still grieving, but it sounded like she was starting to return to her usual self again. The others were coping fairly well given the circumstances. It helped that they'd been held together and had been able to communicate with each other while they were imprisoned.

They left Wallace and Jovasti to tell the others that they'd be heading home soon, and Sophie and Lucas continued on to the wardroom to meet with the senior staff.

* * *

Katie Hitchcock was usually the first one to arrive for staff meetings. Normally all that meant was that she had a few extra minutes to finish her coffee before things got started, but today it afforded her a mix of amusement and confusion as she watched her shipmates arrive. Lucas was the next one to show up, and he was accompanied by a woman who he introduced to Katie as Commander Sophie Sutton. Like Lucas, Sutton didn't wear a name patch on her uniform, but they both wore the insignia for ISD on their collars. She assumed that Sutton must have been a prisoner on the station, and she was surprised that ISD would let one of their people go back to work so quickly after something like that, but it wasn't really any of her business. Sutton seemed nice enough, anyway, which was a refreshing change from Lieutenant Callahan. Katie was also tickled to see that overnight, Lucas had cut his hair to a reasonable length - it wasn't nearly as short as most male officers' hair, but at least the ponytail was gone - and wondered if Sutton had made him do it. If so, it was a definite point in Sutton's favor.

The next person to arrive was Dr. Smith, and she stopped dead in the doorway and gaped, open-mouthed, at Lucas and Sutton. Tim O'Neill arrived on her heels and nearly ran into her, but when he spotted the pair sitting at the end of the table, he followed Dr. Smith's example and did a decent imitation of a landed fish. Katie looked over at Lucas and Sutton to see if they had any idea what was going on. Lucas looked amused, but Sutton's pleasantly disinterested expression never changed.

"Lieutenant O'Neill?" Katie prompted, frowning at her friend. It wasn't unusual for Dr. Smith to get lost in thought, especially when she was using her psychic abilities, but Tim was a UEO officer and Sutton outranked him. He couldn't just stand there and stare at her like an idiot.

"I, um," Tim stuttered, but after a moment he seemed to pull himself together. "Uh, hi. I'm Tim O'Neill. I'm the communications officer."

"Sophie Sutton," the commander replied, her cool composure a striking contrast to Tim's nervousness. "Intelligence Security Division. Nice to meet you, Lieutenant."

"And this is Dr. Smith," Tim added, realizing that Wendy was still gaping at Sutton. "She's our CMO aboard the _seaQuest_."

Sutton's gaze moved to Wendy, who didn't appear to have heard the exchange. Tim shifted his weight and stepped down lightly on the doctor's foot, rousing her from her reverie.

"I'm sorry," Wendy said slowly, with a glance at Katie that suggested she might have said more if the engineer hadn't been in the room. "I was…distracted."

Sutton inclined her head, the postural equivalent of a polite 'is that so', but said nothing. Wendy took her usual seat, to the left of where the captain would sit, and a tense silence settled over the room. Ford arrived next and, to Katie's relief, he didn't act any differently than she would have expected him to, introducing himself politely to Commander Sutton before taking his seat. It was interesting to compare his demeanor to Sutton's. His calm exterior was a reflection of the state of the crew and the boat; Katie knew from experience that when things with _seaQuest_ got hectic, Jonathan's cool tended to slip. Sutton's attitude was subtly different, and Katie got the sense that if the entire world were flipped on its head tomorrow, the woman's casual confidence wouldn't suffer in the slightest.

Ben's response on his arrival was the outlier of the group. Rather than seeming surprised, he looked as though he was anticipating that something exciting and, knowing Ben, probably against regulations was going to happen. His introduction to Sutton was significant mostly because he was the only person she talked to beyond the bare minimum.

"Lieutenant Krieg, I understand I have you to thank for the supplies provided to our recued personnel." Sutton's smile was open and genuine, and Katie felt herself warming further to the commander. "Your efforts are greatly appreciated."

"I'm just glad I could help. I mean, it's not much compared to what you did to -"

He stopped himself abruptly, uncertain if he should continue, and Sutton shook her head, amused.

"It's no secret now, Lieutenant. Commander Griffin took care of that this morning, as you already know."

Her look suggested Ben had managed to learn something he probably shouldn't have, which was pretty much the status quo when Ben was involved in something. Sutton might have kept talking, but Brody had just entered the room and the subsequent introductions derailed the conversation.

Bridger was the last to arrive except for Lieutenant Callahan, who was habitually several minutes late in what Katie felt was yet another way for her to remind the command staff that she didn't answer to them. The captain's response to Sutton's presence was comical; he did the same exaggerated double-take that Wendy and Tim had, and actually stumbled over his own name when introducing himself to Sutton. To her credit, Sutton's expression never changed and she didn't seem the least bit amused at the captain's discomfiture. Bridger then directed a speaking look at Lucas, but the younger man stayed silent.

"We're glad to have you with us, Commander," Bridger said finally, shaking off whatever odd preoccupation seemed to be going around. "Let's go ahead and get started."

"Excuse me, Captain," Sutton said. "I was under the impression that Lieutenant Callahan would be attending this meeting."

"Lieutenant Callahan attends most of our staff meetings," Bridger agreed, a little bit of irritation creeping into his voice. "She typically arrives after the meeting begins."

"Does she." Sutton's tone was deceptively mild, and under it Katie heard pure steel. "I apologize for interrupting, Captain." She didn't apologize for Callahan, but Katie got the feeling that Callahan was going to be sorry when Sutton saw her next.

"Actually, Commander, I was hoping that you or Commander Wolenczak might have some news for us regarding the status of our new guests."

Sutton glanced at Lucas, who looked pleased with himself.

"Commander Sutton is now the ranking ISD officer onboard _seaQuest_," Lucas said, sounding downright cheerful. "Personnel and command decisions are her purview, so I'll defer to her."

That explained Lucas's good mood, Katie realized. It didn't take a parapsychologist to realize that Lucas didn't like being the person in charge of the day-to-day ISD issues on the boat, although he hadn't been willing to let Callahan make the decisions, and he _really _hadn't liked being stuck trying to manage Callahan. He was clearly overjoyed to be handing all of it over to Sutton.

"Admiral Lowry has arranged transportation for all of our rescued personnel," Sutton said, not seeming the least bit surprised that Lucas had effectively washed his hands of the whole situation. "The _Dauntless _will rendezvous with the _seaQuest _at approximately 1900 hours tomorrow to retrieve them and will then transport them to New Cape Quest. You're late, Lieutenant," she added without missing a beat as Callahan walked into the room.

The effect on Callahan was instantaneous. She stiffened, turned, and pinned Sutton with a murderous glare.

"_You_," Callahan practically snarled, venom dripping from the word. Across the table from Katie, Ben had perked up and looked as though he was expecting the encounter to degenerate into some sort of mud-wrestling match.

"You're late," Sutton repeated, her tone flat with disdain. "And in the future, you will address superior officers by rank or with an honorific. I'm sure you recall how I feel about disrespectful behavior."

Callahan spluttered, furious, but her anger was wasted against Sutton's cold disinterest. Ben was grinning unrepentantly, and Katie made a mental note to find out exactly what he knew about the situation.

"Sit." Sutton's command was short and sharp, the way Katie might address a misbehaving puppy. Callahan appeared to react on instinct, and she was sitting down in a chair before she realized that she'd obeyed Sutton's order. "Captain Bridger," Sutton continued, as though the interlude hadn't happened, "will that schedule for the rendezvous be acceptable?"

"I think that'll be fine, Commander," Bridger replied. He was doing a better job than most of them were at hiding his smile, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. They'd all been wishing they could rebuke Callahan for her behavior since she'd come aboard, and Sutton had done an excellent job of slapping her down. "Will you be remaining on _seaQuest_ with us?"

"I will," she confirmed. "Lieutenant Callahan, however, is being recalled to headquarters."

Callahan pressed her lips together, the skin around them whitening from the pressure, but otherwise she showed no reaction to this news. Katie suspected she didn't argue because she didn't want to open herself up for further censure from Sutton.

The meeting went smoothly after that, although Callahan kept glaring daggers at Sutton and Wolenczak when she thought they weren't looking. When Bridger adjourned the meeting, they all started to rise, but Sutton's voice cut through the room.

"Lieutenant Callahan, a moment of your time."

Callahan froze in place. Across the table, neither Lucas nor Sutton had made any move to stand. The others moved a little faster, not wanting to be in the line of fire when the hopefully metaphorical shooting began. Ben was the exception, lingering at the door in hopes of observing a catfight, but Katie got a firm grip on the back of his uniform and practically dragged him out. He had no business watching Callahan receive the world-class dressing down that she had coming to her, and if Sutton decided to actually kill her, Katie didn't want Ben to end up as the only witness to the murder.

* * *

Lucas stayed silent until, verbal beating thoroughly administered, Sophie dismissed Callahan from the wardroom and the two of them were alone again. He'd used the time that Sophie had taken to rebuke Callahan to think a few things through, and now he wanted confirmation of his theory.

"You think there's more to this than just Callahan trying to advance her career by making me look like a traitor."

Sophie leaned back in her chair, looking at him but not really seeing him. He knew she was a thousand miles away, sorting through the possibilities to try and come up with the most likely scenario.

"You reviewed the security logs for the intel that was given to Zeta Team before their last mission," she said finally. "What did you find?"

"Nothing," he admitted. "There was nothing to suggest that the information was planted in our system."

"But you were reviewing it with a specific goal in mind, weren't you?"

"I was trying to clear Jack's name," he confirmed. "It took me almost a week. Without Jack working intelligence, the workload was overwhelming, and I was reviewing those logs on my own time."

"Once Jack was cleared, did you spend any more time on the logs?"

"No. There didn't seem to be much point."

Sophie's gaze focused abruptly, the beginnings of a satisfied smile crossing her face.

"You still have the logs."

It wasn't a question, but Lucas nodded in agreement anyway.

"The originals are in the tech vault at headquarters, but I have a copy on my personal computer. I haven't accessed it since I downloaded it, but I knew I'd want it if I hadn't got it."

"Go over them again. Don't look for anything specific this time."

"Pattern recognition," he agreed slowly. "I'll just see if anything strange pops up." He paused, then shook his head. "You think that Callahan was involved with Zeta Team being set up?"

"I'm not ruling it out. We still have nearly two full days before the _Dauntless_ gets here to take the team and Callahan back to headquarters. Pull any of our people who you think might be helpful. It's not an official assignment, so it doesn't matter that HQ hasn't cleared them yet, and it's not like they have anything else to do."

His typical choice would be either Melahar or Kennedy; they were both handy with computers, although they weren't as good as he was, and they'd been helpful in the past when he'd been under a time constraint and unable to use Jack or any of the other intel coordinators. Melahar was dead, but Kennedy would probably be glad for something to occupy his time, especially if it helped to determine whether a leak in ISD had been responsible for the team's capture. And if Sophie was right and Callahan had participated in setting up the ambush that had taken down Zeta Team…

If that was the case, then Callahan would probably live just long enough to be _very_ sorry.


	35. Chapter 35

A/N: This chapter uses its assigned prompt and also borrows one of my favorite quotes from Burn Notice.

* * *

033. That is a very interesting remark. I may have to report that.

* * *

Katie had cornered Ben in the passage outside the mess hall and dragged him down to her office in the engineering section. It was tiny and cramped, but it was private, and with the amount of noise in that part of the boat they weren't likely to be overheard.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ben was disclaiming, but Katie had known him too long to believe him when he was covering something up.

"There's no point in lying to me," she said firmly. "Half of the senior staff recognized Commander Sutton this morning. Why? Who is she? How do you know her?"

He started to bluster again, but a look from his ex-wife convinced him that his best move was to give in and tell the truth before she came down on him the way Sutton had come down on Callahan.

"It's complicated, Katie."

"I'm a smart woman, Ben," she retorted. "Try me. I bet I can follow along."

He sighed heavily. He missed a lot of things about their relationship, but he hadn't missed this.

"Okay. Do you remember when there were six of us who ended up unconscious in Sickbay?"

"I'm not likely to forget," she pointed out. "Especially when you and the captain and Tim…" She hesitated, the pieces falling into place. "And Dr. Smith. All of the people who looked like they recognized Commander Sutton at the meeting this morning. Ben, what's going on?"

"I'm trying to tell you," he replied with some asperity. "The captain told everyone that it was some sort of Macronesian weapon that only affected certain members of the crew, right? Well, apparently it was a psychic weapon, and somehow we all ended up inside Lucas's head."

It sounded as strange as it had when Lucas had explained it to him. Judging from the look on Katie's face, she was torn between believing him and accusing him of what sounded like it had to be a lie.

"Trust me, Katie, that's what happened, and Lucas wasn't exactly thrilled about having us there. We all ended up seeing a few of his memories, and Commander Sutton was in some of them."

Katie gave him a long look, but the story was simply too strange to be false. When Ben told a tall tale, his goal was usually to be believed, and he wouldn't have made up something so outlandish. Parapsychology and weirdness went hand in hand, as far as Katie was concerned, so she supposed it was possible that Ben and the others had been wandering around in Lucas's head while they were all unconscious.

"Okay," she said slowly. "So what did you see?"

"I don't think it would be right for me to recap it all for you," Ben told her. "Lucas didn't show us that stuff on purpose. It's bad enough that he had five people poking around in his head. I shouldn't -"

"I understand," Katie said, interrupting his temporizing. "He'd be furious if you told me, and I wouldn't blame him." She sighed. "At least that explains why you recognized her, although it doesn't explain why everyone seemed so shocked to see her."

"I can tell you the gossip I overheard in the cargo bay," Ben volunteered. "One of the teams that was rescued from the prison works with Sutton, and they were talking about her. It's not like I got that information from the inside of anybody's head."

"Okay." Katie usually wasn't interested in ship's gossip, but for this she'd make an exception. Besides, Ben wanted to tell her; he was practically bursting with it. "What did you hear?"

"Lucas and Sutton have been partners for years. When Sutton's team was captured, she'd been in a coma for weeks. The Macronesians had the team for three months, and they didn't hear anything from her until she showed up at the station this week. She was the one who orchestrated the prison break. And get this: apparently, everyone else thought that she was dead."

Katie frowned, making the connection that Ben had expected she would.

"Did Lucas know she was alive?"

"I'm not sure," Ben admitted. "Laughlin told us - the people who were affected by the weapon - that Sutton was dead, and Lucas didn't correct her. Their team didn't know that Sutton wasn't with Lucas while they were gone. One of them mentioned that Lucas didn't handle it well when she was in the coma, and they were worried about him being alone."

"He wasn't _alone_," Katie pointed out, just as Ben had been tempted to do when he'd initially overheard the conversation. "Not the whole time, anyway. He's been with us for the past two months."

Katie smiled then, and Ben wondered what he'd missed.

"What?"

"He's in love with Sutton, isn't he? That's why they were worried about him being without her. That's why he fell apart when she was sick."

"Wow." Ben shook his head, impressed. "That women's intuition stuff is amazing."

She didn't smack him for the comment, which said more about her level of self-control than anything else.

"It's obvious, Ben," she said instead, settling for rolling her eyes. "Anybody with half a brain could figure it out."

"Right." He was leaving that one alone. "Anyway, that's why people were surprised to see her this morning. We all thought she was dead. I saw her in the cargo bay before the meeting or I would have been as surprised as everyone else."

"You looked smug this morning," Katie recalled, and Ben grinned.

"I also overheard that Sutton and Callahan got in an argument once, and Sutton punched her in the face. I was hoping we might get to see a repeat of that performance."

"You are _such _a pig."

"Oh, don't tell me you wouldn't have enjoyed it."

Katie refused to answer, on the grounds that it would have been embarrassing to admit that he was right.

Ben moved to leave, but her hand on his arm stopped him.

"Katie?"

"Just tell me one thing, okay? I don't care how you find it out. Lucas was always a sweet kid and he's been through so much. We couldn't be here for him, and he deserves to have someone…" Katie bit her lip. "Just please tell me that she loves him back, and that she makes him happy, and that he's not hopelessly pining for her or something, because I don't think I could take it -"

Her ex-husband's hand moved to cover hers, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. The last memory of Lucas's that Ben had observed flashed through his mind again: Sophie smiling up at Lucas, pulling him in for a kiss, dancing with her head resting lightly against his chest.

"She loves him."

"Good." She sighed, releasing his arm from her grip. "Thank you, Ben."

* * *

Sophie was sitting cross-legged on the bed, drinking her coffee and skimming through the report Lucas had given her earlier. It was a compilation of all of the changes and new developments in the intelligence community that had occurred since she'd gone undercover, and he'd apparently started putting it together the day after she'd left. She was charmed that he'd put so much effort into something that she realistically might never have survived to read. It had either been a testament to his faith in her abilities or a way for him to keep his fears of losing her at bay. Either way, he'd done an excellent job with it, and she resolved to drag him over to the bed and show him her enthusiastic appreciation as soon as the rendezvous with the _Dauntless_ was completed and the situation with Callahan was resolved.

When she'd gone to the mess hall for her coffee, she'd brought back a mug for Lucas as well. It was currently sitting forgotten on one of the lab benches, cooling rapidly, as he worked. He'd been completely absorbed with his computer for most of the day, trying to figure out who had supplied Zeta Team with the information for their last mission.

Sophie was reluctant to interrupt him and possibly delay his progress, but at some point they needed to check in with Zeta Team. Kennedy would have called if he'd found anything worth reporting in the logs Lucas had assigned him to review, she knew, and he was probably almost as focused on his work as Lucas was, but there were nine other team members who needed to spend a little face time with their officers before they were transferred back to headquarters tomorrow evening. Much of Zeta Team's success was due to their cohesiveness as a unit, and a large part of that was knowing that they could rely on the officers who led them. She and Lucas had only gotten a chance to speak to Wallace and Jovasti this morning, and while she trusted her chiefs, she wanted the opportunity to sit down and talk with each of the members of the team before they left.

Lucas swore loudly, interrupting her train of thought. She glanced over at him and he answered the question in her eyes.

"The intelligence that Zeta Team was given wasn't confirmed by anyone who was working in the Intel department at the time."

"Jack reviewed it."

"Right, but it should have been confirmed before it ever came up for review. There is a line of code that's been entered as a correlation tag, which means that someone logged it as confirmed, but that tag doesn't match up to the codes for any of the intel coordinators."

"So the tag is a forgery?"

He nodded. "I know that someone logged the data into the system and used an invalid correlation tag to make it look like someone from my department had approved it. What I don't know is who, or how, or when, or any of those other details that might actually help us figure out the traitor's identity." Lucas pushed away from the computer, thoroughly frustrated. "I can't find anything that might actually be useful!"

Sophie got up and came over to him, which wasn't surprising. He assumed she'd want to see the data for herself. She then proceeded to ignore the computer in favor of sitting down in his lap, linking her hands behind his neck and giving him the kind of kiss that drove all thoughts of traitors and correlations tags right out of his head.

When she pulled away, it was just far enough to let them both catch their breath, her lips a bare centimeter from his.

"We," she murmured, and he blinked dumbly at her, trying to pull his thoughts back into some sort of cohesive order.

"What?"

"You keep saying 'I'." Her fingers toyed with his newly shortened hair, and she gave him a small smile. "I'm just reminding you that neither one of us is alone anymore. We're a 'we' again."

He exhaled heavily, convinced he could actually feel a little bit of the weight lifting off of his shoulders. He'd been alone for so long that he'd forgotten what it was like to be part of a team.

"Okay," he agreed, brushing his lips against her forehead. "What are _we_ going to do next?"

"_We _are going to do what we do best."

Lucas glanced from Sophie to the bed and back with a cocky grin.

"You know I can't say no to you, Sophie, but I don't really see how that's going to help."

The slap she delivered to his arm was halfhearted at best, and she pulled him in for another kiss before she slid off of his lap.

"I meant that we should work together to figure it out," she informed him tartly. "If you can't use the logs to backtrack through the system and find our mystery programmer's identity, then maybe a little social engineering is in order."

"You're going to draw them out?"

"I still think Callahan is involved," she replied. "If we leak it to her that we've figured out that the logs were altered and she was the one who did it, she might try to alter the original records again to cover her tracks. If she had a partner, she'll get in contact with them to warn them."

"Either way, we'll catch them." He nodded slowly. "How do we leak this information to Callahan in a way she'll believe it that will prompt her to take some sort of action before she leaves the boat tomorrow?"

"She's already paranoid." Sophie sounded smug. "She's convinced that I'm out to get her."

"You are."

She waved a hand. "Semantics. The point is, it'll only take a little push to send her over the edge."

"Can I be the one to push her?"

Lucas was only half-joking, but Sophie shook her head.

"We need someone she trusts, or at least someone she isn't frankly suspicious of. Got any suggestions?"

Lucas considered the question for a long moment, then nodded.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

* * *

The atmosphere in the room was grim. Lucas, seeing the need for this conversation to be private, had led Sophie and all of Zeta Team down to another of the empty science labs, where Sophie proceeded to drop the bomb about the confirmation that the team had been betrayed and Callahan's possible involvement.

"I don't understand why we can't just kill her." Kelson's voice was flat, but there was anger simmering behind it.

"We don't have any proof," Lucas pointed out.

"If Commander Sutton believes it, sir, that's good enough for me."

"I'm with him," declared Kennedy, leaning back against the wall. "If you're worried about retribution, we can always make it look like an accident."

"Hallifeld?" Sophie caught and held the other woman's gaze. She was the only one who hadn't said anything after Sophie had given them all permission to speak freely. "Thoughts?"

She shrugged, the movement almost lost in the fabric of the oversized uniform that had been the best fit Lieutenant Krieg could find.

"Sometimes you just have to put the rabid dog down. Ma'am."

The babble of voices started again, unanimously endorsing the desire to kill Callahan, but stopped abruptly when Sophie held up a hand for silence.

"What happens if I'm wrong?"

Wallace snorted, and Sophie pinned him with a glare.

"I know we'd all like to believe that I'm infallible," she said sharply, "but I've been wrong before. If Callahan wasn't involved and we kill her before we figure that out, then what? Do we keep killing everyone we suspect might have been involved until we've decimated the entire division? How do we explain ourselves then?"

There was some grumbling, but Sophie's point seemed to be well taken.

"We'll need a plan for getting her to talk." Jovasti looked at his CO for a bare instant after the words left his mouth, then shook his head. "Of course, you already have a plan."

"I do," she agreed. "But I'm going to need someone from Sigma Team to carry it out. Callahan wouldn't trust anything she heard from any of you, and she sure as hell won't believe anything Wolenczak or I say."

Wallace straightened abruptly. "If you're looking for someone to trick Callahan into tipping her hand, you want Laughlin."

"Interesting that you'd think of her first, Chief," Sophie said, glancing over at her partner. "She was Commander Wolenczak's first choice as well."

"She's the best choice." Hallifeld came closer, finally engaging in the conversation. "She'd never betray us. She knew Carter and Melahar; if Callahan had something to do with getting them killed, she'll do whatever you need her to in order to prove it."

"And she'll follow any order Commander Sutton gives her or die trying." Wallace rolled his eyes when the other members of his team gave him an assortment of disapproving looks. "You can't honestly believe that, in the two years that Laughlin has been in ISD, the commander hasn't once noticed that Laughlin worships the ground she walks on."

"They don't believe that." Sophie sounded amused for the first time since the conversation had started. "I'm pretty sure they were trying to be polite by not bringing it up."

"Tough," Wallace replied, unsympathetic. "This isn't about etiquette, it's about putting together a high-stakes plan to ferret out a traitor. All factors need to be considered."

"I agree," Sophie told him. "You are all aware that this team is not a democracy. However, there have been times in the past when I have made command decisions primarily based on your opinions. This is one of those times. We _will _be setting up a scenario in which we will hopefully push Callahan into revealing her duplicity, and we will _not _make any other moves against her before we know whether or not she was involved in setting you up. However, I'm open to suggestions as to our methods. Do we trick her into trying to access the logs to cover her tracks, or is there another idea we haven't considered? Do we use Laughlin, or is there another member of Sigma Team who you feel would be a better choice?"

Sophie watched as her team started talking again, this time in a more rational manner. This was one of the things that made them such a good team; they worked together, bouncing ideas off of one another and using each person's unique insights to come up with new options. They weren't all good options, of course, but the point was that they were functioning as a team again. Listening to them dissect her plan, looking for flaws and ways to improve it, might have angered another commanding officer. For Sophie it was reassurance that the time they'd spent in the prison hadn't damaged their ability to do the job she required of them.

Eventually, they came to the same conclusion she'd expected they would: the original plan was the best option with the limited amount of time they had, and Laughlin was the best choice to pull it off.

"She's a good actress," Martinez said with a sideways glance at Sophie. "She'll be able to convince Callahan that what she's telling her is the truth."

The peculiar look Martinez gave her when she said it, combined with the fact that Laughlin had been one of the crew members who'd been affected by the psychic pulse weapon, was confirmation of Sophie's theory that Laughlin would be able to psychically influence Callahan into believing her. All of Zeta Team knew that Sophie had the same ability, although they studiously refrained from talking about it. Laughlin had several friends on Zeta Team, and it wouldn't surprise Sophie to learn that most of her people knew that Laughlin had some psi ability. Sophie had considered and discarded the idea of trying to use her own psi ability on Callahan; it worked best in situations where people were already inclined to trust her. With Callahan, who hated her, it was likely that Sophie's attempt would be useless at best and might actually backfire.

"Commander Wolenczak?"

Lucas had been staring off into space, lost in thought, but he came around when she addressed him.

"Sorry. I'm still trying to remember the last time you led by consensus."

"It was probably back when we voted you in as our new intel coordinator, sir," Demarin said, and had the rare privilege of seeing Wolenczak speechless.

"Don't look at me like that," Sutton told him calmly when he turned to her. "I wouldn't have taken a permanent partner without getting their opinions first."

Lucas almost asked her what would have happened if Zeta Team had decided they didn't want him as one of their officers, but she stopped him with a quick wink. The answer was obvious. When she'd taken him as her partner, she'd needed his expertise, and there was no way she would have risked missing out on the opportunity to acquire the intelligence he possessed. Zeta Team was hers, and she knew exactly how they operated. Doubtless she'd simply presented the idea to them in a way that guaranteed they'd vote the way she wanted them to.

"All right, let's get to work," Sophie said. "Wolenczak, get Laughlin down here. Use some excuse that Callahan won't find unusual. The rest of you, go back to the cargo bay and act angry and suspicious, like you just found out that someone set you up."

"We did and we are," Demarin pointed out, and Sophie smiled.

"It shouldn't be much of a stretch, then."

* * *

Sophie and Lucas sat in his old quarters, since the transmitter for the bug they'd put on Laughlin would be thwarted by the high-tech anti-surveillance equipment Lucas had installed in his lab. This room hadn't been claimed for any new purpose since the _seaQuest _had returned, but Lucas had cleaned out his personal effects within days of coming aboard, so it was now as empty and bare as any other unused personnel quarters on the boat. As soon as they'd arrived, Lucas had claimed the desk and chair for his monitoring equipment, so Sophie was sitting on the bed, leaning back against the wall as the wave patterns reflected from the aquatube played across her outstretched legs.

"Lieutenant Callahan? Can I talk to you?"

"Equipment's working," Lucas said softly, speaking into the comset he'd linked to the tiny earbud that Laughlin was currently wearing. The earbud had originally been one of the standard-issue ones used by ISD in undercover missions, fitting into the ear canal and making it invisible to the casual observer, but Lucas had further modified it so that even an attentive observer would have trouble seeing it. She was also wearing a bug disguised as a watch that was transmitting the conversation back to the equipment in front of him, allowing Lucas and Sophie to hear everything that was said.

"What is it, Petty Officer?" Callahan sounded annoyed. Sophie wondered if she'd actually been working or if she just wasn't interested in hearing whatever Laughlin had to say. It set her teeth on edge; as Sigma Team's current mission coordinator, Callahan was officially responsible for all of the members of the team. If one of Sophie's team members came to her and asked to talk, especially in that hesitant tone of voice, she would drop everything and do whatever she could to help them. All of their personal animosity aside, Sophie felt that Callahan really was terrible at her job, and it was a disservice to her team and an insult to the rest of ISD.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, ma'am, but I think you may be in danger."

"Oh?"

"Commander Wolenczak found a discrepancy in one of the intelligence logs about Zeta Team's last mission. He thinks there's a traitor in ISD."

"That is a very interesting remark, Petty Officer. I may have to report that."

"I'm not threatening you." Laughlin sounded shocked by the implication that she was accusing Callahan of being the traitor, and Sophie gave Lucas a pleased look. Laughlin was turning out to be as good an actress as she'd claimed. "I'm trying to warn you, ma'am. Rumor has it that he's going to use this to try and make it look like you were the one who betrayed Zeta Team."

"Rumor?"

"I overheard Wolenczak telling some of the members of _his_ team." She added just the right amount of scorn to the words, and Callahan drew the conclusion they'd wanted her to.

"If I didn't know better, Petty Officer, I'd say you were jealous." Callahan's smirk was audible. "Are you upset that Daddy has a new girlfriend and a bunch of new kids that he likes better?"

"This is how she talks to people who try to _help_ her?" Sophie murmured, disbelieving, and Lucas shrugged, covering the mic of his comset to keep Laughlin from hearing him.

"You punched her in the face for a reason."

"Good point."

"You're our mission coordinator, not him." Laughlin was talking a little faster now, her words intense. "I know you're investigating him for treason. Now he's going to try to get out of it by blaming what he did on you? That's reprehensible! Just because he has Sutton and Pearson on his side, he thinks he can do whatever he wants. You can't let him get away with that!"

There was a long moment of silence. Lucas glanced over at Sophie - if this didn't work, they were going to have to scramble to figure out a backup plan - but was reassured by her smile.

"We've got her," Sophie told him. "Dropping Jack's name was genius. She's hooked."

Lucas was unconvinced, but several seconds later Callahan spoke, confirming what Sophie had already guessed.

"He won't get away with it." Callahan sounded smug. "Don't worry, Petty Officer. He isn't the only one with friends."

There was the sound of footsteps, and several minutes later Laughlin let herself into Lucas's old quarters, shutting and locking the hatch behind herself before turning to the two officers with a broad smile.

"She bought it," Laughlin said, her eyes bright with excitement. "I told you I could convince her."

"Yes, you did." Sophie's tone was approving, and Laughlin's smile widened. "Excellent job, Petty Officer. I couldn't have done better myself."

"Now we wait for her to make a move." Lucas shut down the receiver and recorder for the bug Laughlin was wearing. "Earbud and bug?"

He extended his hand to her for the equipment, but receiving such high praise from Sophie seemed to have struck Laughlin temporarily dumb, and he had to ask her twice before she finally snapped out of it and gave him back his toys.

"How will you catch her, sir?" she asked Lucas, blushing a little over her inattention.

"I installed a keystroke logger onto her computer, and Commander Pearson and I will both be watching the vault access closely." The tech vault wasn't an actual place, but an ultra-secure virtual vault where sensitive ISD intelligence records were stored. "If anyone tries to get to the original records, we'll know."

"And her vidscreen is bugged," Sophie added. "Commander Wolenczak has a talent for subverting secure com lines, so I'll be able to watch any call she makes."

Secure com lines were supposed to be tamper-proof; that was the whole point. Laughlin so studiously avoided looking at Wolenczak after that revelation that she might as well have turned around and gawked at him.

"Yes, ma'am," she said instead. "Did you need anything else?"

"No, you're free to go," Sophie told her. "You'll need to stay out of the cargo bay until this has run its course, though. I know you've spent a fair amount of time visiting with Hallifeld, and I appreciate your concern for her, but if Callahan starts watching you I don't want her to see you with any of the members of my team."

"Yes, ma'am."

Once Laughlin was gone, Lucas looked over at Sophie, who was staring thoughtfully at the aquatube.

"Sophie?"

"There are two things that need to happen now, regardless of how this turns out with Callahan."

"Oh?"

"I want Callahan out of ISD. She's a disgrace. Even if she's not the traitor, I want her gone."

"For us, 'out' usually means dead."

The look she gave him suggested that she hadn't needed him to point that out.

"Okay, then. What's the second thing?"

"We're transferring Laughlin to our team."

"She might not want to transfer."

Her silence spoke volumes, and he sighed.

"I know that she worships you, but she already has a team. She might want to stay with them."

"Sigma Team is second tier," Sophie pointed out, trying to figure out if he was playing dumb or if he'd actually never had this part of the system explained to him. He might really not know the difference; it wasn't something that would matter much to him as an intel coordinator. "It's one of the teams that takes personnel straight out of covert ops school. They don't get to choose their members, they don't have a permanent mission coordinator, and they don't have our team's reputation. Being transferred to a first tier team is a big deal for enlisted personnel. There are only four first tier teams, and they're very selective. She'll jump at the chance."

"If you say so," he said, and meant it. Sophie's ability to predict what people would do was unparalleled - hadn't she just proved that with Callahan? He only hoped that she would continue to be right and Callahan would turn out to be the traitor. If she was innocent, or if she was only an accomplice, then there was still another traitor loose in ISD.


	36. Chapter 36

037. I see strange tales are woven about you.

* * *

Jim Brody leaned back in his chair, watching the security screens as he half-listened to the debate that Garrity and Burns were having about how hot some new actress was. He hadn't had much time on his hands to sit around and watch movies since _seaQuest_ had returned, but if she was half as attractive as Garrity seemed to think she was, he might have to hit up Krieg for a copy of one of her vids and see for himself.

He flipped the screen input from camera to camera. Nothing unusual was going on in the mess hall or on the bridge, and the gym was empty for once. All in all, a quiet shift for -

The hatch to the brig slammed open, and Brody's jaw dropped as Wolenczak and Sutton dragged a handcuffed Lieutenant Callahan inside.

"What's going on?" he demanded as Garrity and Burns fell silent.

"Lieutenant Callahan is being arrested for treason," Lucas told him, sounding grim. "I assume the interrogation room is empty."

"Uh, yeah, of course," Brody replied after a moment's hesitation. "It's through there."

Sutton took charge of Callahan, dragging her past Garrity and Burns and into the interrogation room as all three security officers stared at her.

"Lieutenant Brody," Lucas said, redirecting Brody's attention back to him. "Regulations state that non-ISD personnel are not permitted to be present during the interrogation of ISD operatives without special dispensation from the head of our division."

"Is that your way of telling us to clear out?" Brody bristled a little, but Lucas's weary expression kept him from becoming too defensive.

"I'm asking you nicely," Lucas replied. "If you're still here when Commander Sutton comes out, I suspect she'll take pleasure in physically removing all three of you."

"She'd have trouble pulling that off," Garrity began, and Lucas sighed.

"No, she wouldn't. Trust me, you'd rather cooperate with me than be forced to learn a painful lesson from her." He paused. "Ask any of the Macronesians working on that prison station if you don't believe me."

"The station was blown to pieces. There's nobody to ask," Burns said, and Lucas nodded.

"My point exactly."

Burns and Garrity looked at Brody, who considered Lucas's words.

"You two take up positions outside the hatch," he ordered finally. "Stay out of the brig unless Sutton or Wolenczak says otherwise. I'm going to notify the captain."

That last sounded like a challenge, and he was surprised when Lucas merely nodded.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said. "I appreciate your help."

Brody and the two security officers disappeared through the hatch, and Lucas secured it behind them. He then sat down in Brody's chair, which gave him a view of both the screen showing the interrogation room and access to Brody's computer. It was the work of seconds to override the system, and he brought up the ISD portal interface to start an encrypted recording of the interrogation as, on the other screen, Sophie began to talk to Callahan.

"I don't get it."

Callahan sniffed. "I'm not surprised," she said, her tone implying that Sophie's lack of intellect was clearly the factor limiting her understanding.

"Oh, I understand what you did." Sophie leaned back in her chair, looking every bit as relaxed as she had that morning at breakfast. It was an act, of course, but Lucas gave her points regardless for being able to maintain it in the face of tangible proof that Callahan had been the one to betray Zeta Team. "And I understand how. What I don't get is why."

"This is the part where you try to manipulate me into telling you all the details of my evil plan, right?" Callahan was smiling, but her expression was far from pleasant. "Then I guess it's your lucky day, _Sophie_. I had no intention of keeping quiet forever. What's the point of killing someone like you if you can't even brag about it afterward?" She made a face. "Of course, you didn't have the courtesy to actually die, even after all the trouble I went to."

Lucas tensed, looking intently at the screen. Callahan's efforts to give Zeta Team false information wouldn't have killed Sophie because Sophie hadn't been there. She'd already been in a coma from the drugs she'd been given after they were captured on the Macronesian base.

Sophie did a better job than Lucas of hiding her surprise, but something must have shown through, because Callahan looked satisfied.

"I thought you might only have figured out part of what I did. I see strange tales are woven about you all the time at ISD, about how you start with some inconsequential piece of intel and manage to piece together the details of some vast conspiracy with it. That's typical Sophie Sutton: find a kernel of truth and then try to bluff your way through the rest, hoping you can convince people that you knew what you were doing all along. That won't work today. I'm sure you're recording this, and I want it all documented for posterity."

"By all means." Sophie's smile was no more pleasant that Callahan's had been. "I'm listening."

"For starters, maybe you should reconsider your choice of partners." Callahan leaned forward a little, her posture conspiratorial. "He's cute, but he's not as smart as people seem to think he is. The minidisc that he used to upload the virus into the Macronesian system? It had an extra line of code added to it, courtesy of yours truly, that was designed to set off the intruder alarm."

"Wolenczak never tripped the alarm on that Macronesian base?"

"Technically, I tripped it for him."

Lucas wondered if the expression on his face was anything like the one Sophie was currently wearing. He certainly felt like she looked, as though he'd been hit upside the head with a board.

"You set us up." Sophie's voice was hard. "Was that your initial plan? For the Macronesians to kill the both of us for you?"

"I didn't really care what happened to Wolenczak. I knew you would, though, so it was more like icing on the cake." She smiled, reminiscing. "You should've seen him while you were in that coma. He completely fell apart. It was actually kind of pathetic. You know, in the true sense of the word. Even I felt a little sorry for him."

At Callahan's words, Sophie's expression had sharpened, her anger solidifying and overtaking her surprise.

"And when I was still alive even after all of that hard work on your part? Is that when you decided to sell out my team?"

Callahan smiled again. "They're the only people you care about, other than yourself and your lovesick puppy of a partner. I figured that if you woke up and found out they were dead, that would be enough to push you over the edge. When they told us you'd died in Medbay, a little part of me liked to believe that somehow you'd found out what happened and lost the will to live."

That was actually sort of what had happened - Sophie's 'death' had been a direct result of Zeta Team's capture - although it hadn't turned out the way Callahan would have liked.

"You don't have any background in computer programming. I find it hard to believe that you pulled all of this off without help."

"Oh, I had help," she replied easily. "They just didn't know what they were helping me do. Intel does a post-encounter analysis after every failure or mistake, the same way the MCs do. I posed them a couple of rhetorical questions, gave them hypothetical situations to chew on. 'What if someone were to falsify an intel report, or rig an operative's minidisc to trigger an alarm inside an enemy base?' I gave them the scenarios, and then all I had to do was sit back and listen to their discussion. They gave me everything I needed to pull off my objectives. They even came up with a bunch of ways to counter what I was planning to do, so I took all of that into account. By the time I was ready to make my move, my plans were flawless."

"_Why_?" Sophie demanded, the force of the word nearly driving her to her feet. "Why would you go to all that trouble? What made you hate me that much?"

"I hated you because he loved you."

Sophie gaped at her for a long moment. "This is all about Pearson?" she asked finally, her tone begging Callahan to tell her she was wrong. Lucas was in fervent agreement; if Callahan had tried to kill them and their team because of some bizarre Fatal Attraction-esque obsession with Jack Pearson…

"Don't be ridiculous," Callahan sneered. "Pearson just added insult to injury. I hated you because my own father cared more about you than he did about me. He worshiped you, but he barely even tolerated me. He only accepted me into his division because he felt guilty that he was never around when I was a kid."

Lucas's mouth was hanging open as he stared at the screen. It couldn't be…

"Admiral Lowry is your father." Sophie's voice was flat, hiding her shock. Lowry had never said anything to her, had never even hinted at the possibility, not even on the day when he'd been reading her the riot act for breaking Callahan's nose. He'd seemed as amused by the situation as any of the others, giving her the distinct impression that he'd scolded her only because it was required.

"He had a fling with my mother when they were both young and stupid, and _voila_. I didn't even meet him until I was in high school. I went into the Navy because I wanted him to respect me." She snorted. "For all the good that did. By the time I made it into ISD, you were all he could talk about. He thinks I'm a screw-up. I was going to show him exactly what his screw-up of a daughter could accomplish with the right motivation."

"By killing off all of his best people?"

Without warning, she stood and exited the room, leaving Callahan sitting alone in her chair.

Lucas got to his feet as Sophie appeared around the corner, and for a long moment they stared at each other, in complete accord.

"She set us up."

"She's Lowry's _daughter_."

"And she's insane."

Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache he knew was coming.

"Sophie, I'm not sure what we're supposed to do with this."

"She's still a traitor." Sophie seemed to have absorbed the shock a little better than he had, and she was now considering their options. "After she tried to hack into the vault and change that code, I called Lowry to give him a sitrep and get permission to take her into custody. He didn't even seem surprised. I think he's suspected her for a while."

"But he only authorized her arrest? Not her execution?"

"Lowry can't authorize an execution until she's in his custody at headquarters," she said slowly. "If she dies on _seaQuest_, the only way we'll be in the clear is if she's killed while trying to escape. The admiral himself made a point to remind me of that when I called."

"Why would he bother to point out something you already know?"

"Lucas." Sophie sighed, leaning against the desk. "Lowry telling me that is tantamount to him ordering me to make sure that, one way or another, Callahan doesn't return to headquarters alive. When he said it, I figured he just wanted the matter dealt with quickly. Now I wonder…"

"…if he couldn't stomach the idea of being the one to execute his own daughter for treason?"

Sophie nodded, and Lucas sat down heavily in the chair. Lowry hadn't just told Sophie to kill a traitor. He'd told her to kill his daughter.

"It shouldn't be you."

"What?" Sophie frowned at him, not sure what he was talking about.

"You shouldn't be the one to pull the trigger, Sophie. If anyone is going to kill Callahan, it should be me."

"Lucas," she began to protest. If he was worried about this situation damaging her relationship with Lowry, he didn't need to be. Lowry only cared about results; even Callahan had come to realize that. He interrupted her before she could tell him any of that, and his question stunned her.

"Who killed Pete Morgan?"

_Blood and brain matter splattered against the wall of the interrogation room, Pete's body slumping lifelessly in the chair. _

Sophie took a deep breath and tried not to let her feelings show in her expression. She'd worried when she'd told him that story, all those years ago, that he might one day use it against her. She hated to admit that she'd stopped expecting the betrayal when she'd started to fall in love with him. Apparently, she'd had too much faith in him.

"I killed him." Her voice was clear and cold. "But you already knew that."

"Sophie, please." He sounded genuinely apologetic. She wasn't sure she cared. "You killed Morgan because he was your responsibility. I didn't bring it up to hurt you. I'm trying to explain. Callahan set both of us up to be killed by the Macronesians. It was only chance that we survived, but you ended up in that coma and I blamed myself." His knuckles whitened as his grip on the desk tightened. "All of this time, I believed that I was the one who tripped that alarm. I thought that what happened to you was my fault. And then when Zeta Team was captured, when Melahar and Carter was killed, all I could think was that this was my fault too. If I hadn't been so devastated by what happened to you - if I hadn't let it happen in the first place - then maybe I could have prevented what happened to them."

"Lucas." She was still angry with him for bringing up Morgan, but she couldn't help but feel sympathy for the suffering written all over his face.

"We take an oath when we join ISD to remain loyal to our division under all circumstances."

"_Fidelis usque ad mortem_," she murmured. The phrase itself was in the oath they'd all taken: _Loyal even unto death_.

"We execute traitors because they swore to that oath with their lives and then they betrayed us. If a team member betrays their team, their commanding officer pulls the trigger because they're acting on behalf of all of ISD, of every person that betrayal affected."

"I know all of this, Lucas."

"But you aren't seeing it. Not with Callahan. She betrayed you once, and she betrayed the team once, but she has betrayed me _every day_ for the past two months." His gaze met hers, his blue eyes cold as ice. "She worked beside me every day, secure in the knowledge that she'd intentionally killed my partner and my team, and all this time she's let me believe that it was my fault. I don't care whose daughter she is. I've been her senior officer since she was assigned to _seaQuest_, and she is my responsibility. Let me be the one to deal with her."

He'd never handled the execution of a traitor before. It was a situation that came up very rarely, and if it had occurred on their team, Sophie would have been the one to take care of it. He'd been protected from those issues, sheltered as much as Sophie had been able to manage. Lucas simply wasn't built to deal with that sort of thing.

He hadn't been, anyway. Looking at him now, Sophie realized that he'd changed over the past few months, and somewhat to her surprise she found herself nodding.

"I would never ask you to -"

"I know."

She bit her lip, suddenly uncertain. "It has to look like an escape attempt -"

"I know." He reached out and brushed his thumb gently along the line of her jaw. "Take a walk, Sophie. Tell Garrity and Burns to stay outside and watch the door."

She turned her head to kiss his palm, wondering exactly when he'd gone from being a technological genius masquerading as an ISD operative to being a real operative who just happened to be a genius. She was sorry she'd missed the transformation. She wasn't sure yet if she was sorry it had happened. If someone had asked her four years ago, she would have jumped at the chance to turn Wolenczak into a proper soldier, but now…

What was done was done, however, and now she was just postponing the inevitable.

"Good luck," was all she said. She glanced over her shoulder as she opened the hatch. One word from him, any sign of hesitation, and she would have gone back and insisted that he let her handle this.

His gaze was fixed on the screen that showed the inside of the interrogation room, his hands curled into fists at his sides. He didn't look up.

She left him alone to carry out his duty.

* * *

The room next to the brig was an empty storage area. Almost empty, Sophie corrected herself, spotting someone in the corner of the room. He looked up as she stepped inside, and she realized it was Dagwood, the GELF who worked as the boat's janitor.

"Hello, Commander Sutton," he said in his carefully measured voice. "Can I help you?"

She entered the room, glancing around. Dagwood was mopping the deck, and based on the amount of glistening wet flooring around him, he'd just started.

"I'd rather help you," she said impulsively, looking over at the plexiglass of the aquatube that ran the length of the room. "Do you mind?"

"Mmm, no," Dagwood said slowly, puzzled. "I don't mind. What do you want to help me with?"

"I'll do the glass." She took a clean rag and a bottle of glass cleaner from his cart, holding them up for his inspection. "Okay?"

"Okay." He'd paused in his mopping and was now staring at her in bemusement. She sprayed the cleaner on the window and rubbed it dry with the rag, smiling in satisfaction as the streaks on the glass disappeared.

"This was my job when I was growing up," she said, not sure why she was confiding in him. It wasn't like her past was a state secret or anything, but she wasn't usually so chatty unless she had a concussion. It must have been all of the unpleasant surprises she'd been faced with in the last few hours. "I did all the cleaning at my house. I liked it, though. Something's dirty, so you clean it, and then it's not dirty anymore. It's easy to make a difference that way."

"Mmm. I like it, too," he agreed.

They worked in silence for a while, Dagwood mopping and Sophie wiping the aquatube's surface clean. She fell into a comfortable rhythm, and when the sound of a gunshot echoed down the hall, it actually startled her.

"That sounds like a gun." Dagwood sounded concerned. "We should call Security."

"Don't worry about it, Dagwood," she advised him, returning the rag and bottle to the cart and drawing her own gun. She wouldn't need it, of course, but she had to keep up appearances. "This is my job now."

"Okay." Dagwood still looked puzzled, but he offered her a tentative smile. "Thank you for helping."

"Thank you for the company," Sophie replied, surprising herself when she smiled back at him.


	37. Chapter 37

A/N: My apologies for the delay in updating; real life got away from me. I'm not sure how long the next chapter will take.

* * *

004. Our last shortcut through woods nearly ended in disaster.

* * *

Captain Sarah Sanati waited impatiently for the launch doors to cycle open, years of training the only thing keeping her from fidgeting in front of the two junior officers who'd been tapped to go with her to _seaQuest _to retrieve the rescued UEO personnel. They'd received a partial list of names of those recovered, but Wolenczak, who'd sent that list, hadn't updated them with a complete list before the _Dauntless _had arrived.

The list she had, the one she'd dedicated to memory within minutes of receiving it, gave thirty-five names. That meant that there were still twenty-two possibilities for a missing friend or acquaintance to be among those rescued. Twenty-two chances to regain someone she'd believed was lost, and Sanati had lost plenty of people since the beginning of this war. Some of those really were gone forever, confirmed casualties, but that left the multitudes who were presumed dead or captured, who'd disappeared into the ether between one mission and the next.

The doors opened and she straightened, every inch the consummate officer. That lasted about five seconds, right up until she exited the launch, looked around the docking bay, and spotted Sophie Sutton standing behind the man who her intel told her was Nathan Bridger. All of the breath was knocked out of her as swiftly as though she'd been punched, and she barely remembered to salute Bridger.

"Captain Sarah Sanati, Section Seven," she identified herself. "This is Lieutenant Harrison and Lieutenant Cardenas. Captain Glenn, the commanding officer of the _Dauntless_, sends his regards. Permission to come aboard, sir?"

"Permission granted, Captain," Bridger replied. "I'd introduce you to Commander Sutton, but judging from your expression I'm guessing you've already met."

"You're not wrong, Captain," Sanati replied, eschewing the return of Sophie's traditional salute in favor of pulling her into a quick hug, not caring whether it was against SecSev regs. She'd wanted to find a lost friend among the people rescued from the prison, but to find _this _friend… "Jesus, Sass, I'm so glad to see you."

"Likewise, Sass," Sophie murmured, and Sanati grinned. They'd taken a psi-training course together years ago at Chatton and been assigned as roommates by virtue of their surnames' alphabetical proximity. It hadn't taken them long to realize they had the same initials, S-A-S, and they'd taken to calling one another by them. They'd become fast friends and had actually stayed close after finishing the course even though they were assigned to different departments. Hearing about Sophie's death several months ago had shaken her. She'd always believed that Sophie Sutton was invincible.

"Let me guess. Rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated?"

"Intentionally," Sophie confirmed, and Sanati nodded as though she'd been expecting that response. On some level, she supposed she had been. If there was a breakout from the most secure prison in Macronesian territory, it was vastly unlikely that Sophie Sutton would be in the area simply by coincidence, especially since Sanati already knew that Wolenczak had been involved in orchestrating the prison break. This was yet another one of Sophie's elaborate missions. She'd probably needed people to believe she was dead in order to work some angle or slip past some security checkpoint.

"This is for you," Sophie added, handing Sanati a minidisc. "It's the updated list of refugees. Sorry it wasn't transmitted to you sooner; we had a little excitement here."

"Oh?"

"We uncovered a traitor aboard the boat, but she was killed while trying to escape from the brig."

Sanati shook her head. "I'd hate be around when you have a really exciting day."

Sophie smiled, a knowing expression, and tilted her head toward the doors to the docking bay.

"Captain Bridger, I'd like to take Captain Sanati and her people down to Cargo Bay Three now. Would you care to join us?"

"Actually, I was hoping to speak with Commander Wolenczak. I'm sure you can take care of whatever Captain Sanati might need."

Sophie glanced over at Sanati.

"Captain, would you and your people mind giving us a moment?"

"Of course," Sanati replied, gesturing for the two lieutenants to join her by the far wall to give Sophie and the captain at least a semblance of privacy. They were far enough away that they couldn't hear the quiet conversation between Sophie and Bridger.

"Commander Wolenczak has been temporarily relieved of duty pending the results of Lieutenant Brody's investigation into the shooting, Captain."

Of course, the inaudibility of their conversation meant very little to Sanati. Being a telepath who was also trained in reading lips came in handy quite often in the spy world.

"I understand that, Commander. I wasn't planning on interrogating him. I'd just like to see how he's doing."

Sophie's momentary hesitation wouldn't have been visible to anyone who didn't know her well. Bridger either didn't see it or didn't deem it worthy of remarking on.

"I'm sure he'd appreciate your concern," she replied, yielding gracefully. "By your leave, sir."

"Go ahead, Commander," Bridger told her. "Let me know when the refugees are ready to go. I'd like to be here to see them off."

"Of course, Captain."

Sophie rejoined Sanati and her lieutenants, leaving Bridger in the docking bay as they headed over to Cargo Bay Three.

"Everything all right, Sass?" Sanati asked, and received a dry look from Sophie.

"You'd know as well as I would."

Sanati smiled, her lips curling into a Cheshire cat grin.

"Knows all, sees all, and tells nothing to nobody," she replied cheerfully. "Where is this cargo bay? You'd think it would be near the docking bays."

Sophie, who'd memorized the blueprints of the boat at the first opportunity, shrugged. There were several things about the setup of the boat that didn't make much sense to her. It was likely that whoever had designed the boat hadn't been quite as tactically oriented as she was.

"You'd think, wouldn't you? But it's over the river and through the woods -"

"Please, let's skip the woods. Our last shortcut through woods nearly ended in disaster."

They both snickered at the memory, sharing a smile as Sophie led the little group down to where the refugees awaited them.

* * *

Two hours later, the last of the rescued UEO personnel were safely aboard the _Dauntless _and headed for New Cape Quest. Sophie had made Wolenczak's excuses to Zeta Team, none of whom seemed surprised by his absence at their send-off. News of Callahan's death had spread like wildfire, including the fact that their intel coordinator had been the one to kill her. If they were surprised it had been Wolenczak instead of Sutton, they were wise enough not to show it.

Her parting conversation with Sanati had been a nice interlude, even if Sanati had seemed a little too happy to find that jerk Alex Griffin among the refugees. Probably she was just relieved to have one more of her own people back; Sophie could understand that feeling, even though Griffin was an arrogant prig. The last time Sophie had seen Sanati had been over a year ago, back when Sanati had been in the hospital after a bombing of one of Section Seven's outposts. She'd recovered fully from her injuries, and she was gratifyingly happy to see that Sophie was also alive and well. They made plans to get together the next time it was feasible. Neither of them had many friends - such was the nature of their work - and the opportunity to spend time with another person who really _understood_ their day to day life was rare. Sophie wasn't sure when that opportunity would arise, but she was looking forward to it regardless.

She went through the stringent process of letting herself into her partner's lab, barely noticing the security measures that most people aboard would no doubt find excessive. Security measures like these saved lives, something Wolenczak had apparently learned during his tenure at ISD. She was certain he'd been the one to install all of the scanners and passcode locks onto the doors; the _seaQuest _hadn't initially been designed with that sort of security in mind.

Wolenczak himself was sitting at his workstation, laptop open in front of him.

"Lucas?"

"Hey." He didn't look up from his computer screen as Sophie entered the room. She watched him as she tugged the pins out of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders with a little sigh of relief. She'd been a tad overzealous in putting it up that morning, and the release of the tension at the back of her skull eliminated a headache she hadn't even realized she'd had until it was gone.

"The _Dauntless _is gone. Did you know that Sarah Sanati is their Section Seven attaché?"

"I knew."

"You didn't tell me."

"I forgot."

She paused, then chose another avenue of discussion.

"Did you end up having a talk with Bridger?"

"No."

That gave her pause; Bridger had seemed firm in his resolve to chat with Lucas.

"Did he come looking for you?"

"Yes."

She waited for an explanation as to how he'd dodged the captain, but none was forthcoming. Sophie bit her lip, uncertain why she was encountering so much resistance. It was possible that he was doing something esoterically complicated on the computer; when he was short with her this way, it was usually because she was interrupting him. He didn't have the same intensity he exhibited when he was working on one of his mad scientist projects, however. To the contrary, he seemed - unfocused. Scattered. Lost.

_Hell_.

She should have seen this coming. Actually, she had seen it coming, or something like it, but she'd foolishly hoped that his anger over what Callahan had done to them and to their team would keep him from feeling the full impact of becoming her executioner. At least he'd been smart enough not to try and meet with Bridger while he was feeling this way. The captain was entirely too canny for Sophie's taste and he was still an unknown quantity. If he confirmed for himself that Callahan's escape attempt had been staged, there was no telling what he might do with the information.

"Thinking about Callahan?"

Her partner's head jerked up, finally giving her his full attention, and she swallowed another curse at the hollow look in his eyes. It was familiar, although she'd never seen it on him before. That was the same way Hallifeld had looked when she'd seen her in the prison, and it was the same expression Sophie had seen in the mirror a time or two in the past. She'd looked just like that the night she'd killed Pete Morgan.

"Should I be?"

Sophie ignored both the question and the snide tone he used to ask it, pinning him with her level gaze.

He sighed. "She had a guaranteed death sentence. Does it really matter that I was the one who pulled the trigger?"

"Apparently, it does." Sophie propped her chin up on her fist, still sprawled across the bed. Her posture was an intentional contrast to his, a subconscious message to get him to relax, but it wasn't working. "Would you be over there sulking if I'd been the one who shot her?"

He stiffened - he hated it when she accused him of sulking or pouting - but he didn't argue.

"_I _wouldn't be over there sulking if I'd shot her," Sophie pointed out, continuing to needle him in the hopes that he'd finally say something meaningful instead of just sniping at her. "I'd be celebrating."

"I'm not you!" he snapped, his sarcasm slipping and showing her a glimpse of the anguish beneath it. She swallowed a sigh, relieved that he was starting to respond. Being intentionally cruel or callous toward him, even with the best intentions in the world, wasn't as easy as it should have been.

_Part of being in love_, she thought, torn between sardonic amusement and self-recrimination. She'd said all along that love was a complication she couldn't afford, that it would make their jobs ten times more difficult, and as much as she liked to be right there were times when she'd prefer to be proven wrong.

"I've noticed," she replied, keeping to the thread of the conversation. "So what is this? Are you feeling guilty for doing your job?"

"At least I feel something!"

"I wish I didn't," she replied honestly. "It would make my job easier."

"Oh, right. Do you think I'm actually going to believe that you feel guilty about what happened to Callahan?"

"Of course not. I feel guilty about what happened to you."

That brought him to a standstill, and he looked at her like a drowning man sighting a life preserver.

"What…what do you mean?"

"It doesn't take a genius to see that you're hurting, Lucas. I don't know whether it was Callahan's betrayal or you being the one to take care of it that caused it, but I'm sorry for it either way."

He was silent for a long moment.

"Has it occurred to you that I'm not a typical operative?" he asked finally. "Even for the intel side?"

"Daily," she replied, managing with a herculean effort to keep from rolling her eyes. Wolenczak was so far from the norm for their department that he might as well have been another species. He eschewed violence, disliked guns, was actually afraid of explosives, and had a downright bizarre preoccupation with keeping to the path of least resistance, even when it meant a significant loss of efficiency. Their division as a whole was diametrically opposed to most of what he believed in.

"It wasn't that hard to reconcile myself to the way ISD works," he said slowly. "Not when I joined. They recruited me to do a job, so I did the job. If there were conflicts, you dealt with them for me."

She'd wondered how much of that he'd noticed over the years, her typically subtle but occasionally overt influence on his day to day life in ISD. She'd shielded him from most of the ugly things they dealt with. She performed prisoner interrogations and the cultivation of enemy contacts, responsibilities which typically fell under the IC's purview, both because she was good at it and because, conversely, Lucas just wasn't up to the job. His brain simply wasn't wired to handle wanton violence or willful betrayal.

"And then things changed?"

"Well, you were in a coma," he pointed out, a little dark humor creeping back into his tone. "It would've been hard for you to protect me from the real world then. And then Zeta Team was gone, and then _you _were gone, and I was alone."

Sophie swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "I never planned for that to happen -"

"I'm not a child!" he exploded, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. She held her tongue, knowing that if she pointed out the nervous gesture now, it would only reinforce the idea that she thought of him as a kid. "I've been in this division for almost five years! I should be able to do my job without you running interference for me - and I could, at first. I cleared Jack's name on my own. I kept my department from being overwhelmed while he got back into the swing of things. I did as good a job as any other senior intel officer would have."

"So what changed?"

He collapsed back into his chair, exhaustion starting to set in. "They found the _seaQuest_ and everything changed. Everyone wanted something from me, wanted me to be someone I wasn't. I had no idea who I was anymore and I didn't have anyone around to remind me. I did my best to stay in character as the cold-hearted spy. Some days it was impossible, and some days I was terrified by how easy it was. And all that time, Callahan was sitting right under my nose, and I never once realized who she really was or what she'd done."

"That's not your fault, Lucas."

"No? You were here less than a day and you knew she was a traitor. I worked with her for _months_ -"

"- and you never liked her." Sophie was positive about that, even though he hadn't specifically told her. She knew him well enough to know how he would have responded to Callahan's attitude. "You never trusted her."

"I didn't even consider that she might be a traitor."

"Because that's not who you are, Lucas," Sophie told him, starting to run out of patience with the conversation. "That's not something that would ever occur to you. It's outside your realm of experience."

"Anyone else would have seen her for what she was. If it had been you here instead of me…"

The subtext was disturbingly clear. He was angry at Callahan's betrayal, but he was angrier with himself for not seeing it like a 'good operative' would have. Like Sophie would have.

"Is that why you took responsibility for her in the end?" Sophie watched him carefully for a sign that she'd figured it out. "Is that why you volunteered? Because you felt like you could redeem yourself if you were the one to pull the trigger?"

"That's what anyone else would have done."

"No, Lucas," she corrected him gently. "It's what _I _would have done. Is that what this is really about? That you weren't conforming to some idealized concept you have of what an operative should do because it's what I would have done?"

His silence was all the answer she needed.

"Lucas, when was the last time you saw me hack into an enemy database?"

He frowned at the abrupt change in subject.

"Never, that I can remember," he replied finally, and she nodded.

"That's because I'm terrible with technology. Everybody has their strengths and weaknesses. I'm a brilliant tactician, a decent sniper, and a hand-to-hand combat instructor. I am _not_ a computer programmer, a hacker, or a people person. I defer all of that to you."

"It's not the same thing -"

"It's exactly the same thing!" Sophie threw her hands up in exasperation. "For a genius, Wolenczak, you can be a real idiot sometimes!

He started to snap at her, but she stilled abruptly, pressing a finger to her lips.

"Hear that?"

"What is it?" he whispered, glancing around the room. He hadn't heard anything suspicious, but then he'd been pretty involved in the argument. He wouldn't be surprised if half the bridge crew had managed to sneak into the room while he and Sophie had been busy yelling at each other.

"It's the sound of me putting my foot in my mouth," she whispered back, so straight-faced that it took him several seconds to catch on.

"Sophie -"

"Lucas, please." She sat back down on the bed, patting the space next to her. "Come sit with me. No more arguing, I swear."

He obeyed warily. She scooted a little closer to him and snaked her arm around his waist, his arm coming automatically around her shoulders as she leaned into him.

"If you weren't exactly what this team needed, what I needed, I would've booted you as our intel coordinator years ago, my promise to you notwithstanding."

"I know."

"You do know, but you only know it up here." Her free hand tapped lightly at his temple, then slid down to rest over his heart. "You never realize how important you are in here."

The knot of fury in his chest was loosening, his throat tightening with grief. It was an even trade, one unpleasant emotion for another. He pulled her closer to him, her head tucked beneath his chin, so she wouldn't see the tears in his eyes.

"This hardcore spy stuff isn't who I am."

"I know."

He smiled wanly. "You know it up here," he said, his fingers tugging at her hair. She let out a little laugh, her breath tickling his skin.

"I _know_, Lucas. You're the only intel coordinator who doesn't handle his team's interrogations and enemy assets for a reason. You're too valuable - to this team and to me - to risk losing you to a crisis of conscience."

"I killed Callahan."

_Callahan killed herself_, she wanted to insist, but it was pointless. He was beyond caring that Callahan had signed her own death warrant. All he cared about now was that he'd been the one to pull the trigger.

"If you hadn't killed her, I would have."

Lucas nodded, his chin brushing against the top of her head. He'd never doubted that for a second. "So I guess I can't hate myself for doing something I wouldn't hate you for doing?"

"I guess not."

They sat in silence for a moment, and something he'd wondered about after the prison break - had it only been a few days ago? It felt like years had passed since then - came back to him.

"Sophie?"

"Hmm?"

"Wallace mentioned that the Macs on the station were all dead before the prisoners were released from their cells."

_Forester in her sights, sleeping peacefully, as her finger hesitated on the trigger._

"Before you ask the question, lover, make sure you want to know the answer."

Another long moment of silence.

"Are you okay with it? With what you had to do?"

She blinked at the question, so far from what she'd expected him to ask.

"I have my team back," she said slowly. "We're all back where we belong. For that, I sacrificed each and every one of those people. I traded thirty-two of their lives for fifty-seven of ours."

"The mathematics of war."

"I hate it, Lucas." She sounded weary, leaning a little further into him, and his arm tightened around her in response. "I killed most of the off-duty personnel in their sleep. The guards were unconscious when I shot them. It wasn't even a mockery of a fair fight. It was a slaughter."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry won't end the war, Lucas," Sophie sighed. "Sorry won't get rid of Bourne and Stassi. Sorry won't bring us any closer to being an old married couple living on a farm with our six kids."

"I've been meaning to bring that up with you," he said, perking up a little. "Does it have to be a farm? I did agree to the farm, I know, but I was thinking maybe we could move to Maine instead and I could try my hand at lobster fishing."

"So I'll be a lobsterman's wife." Her lips curled into a reluctant smile. "Why not? Find us a private little island of our own, build me a tactically defensible house, and you've got a deal."

He smiled against her hair. "You will be all right, won't you?"

"I've got Zeta Team." She took his hand in hers, squeezing his fingers. "I've got you. I'll manage."

"No," he replied, finally thinking not of Callahan's death but of a little house on a bluff, of half a dozen tow-headed children playing happily in the surf. Of Sophie, a genuine smile on her face, all of her fatigue and anguish chased away by the sunshine of a clear summer morning. It was just a dream now, but if they could keep going, keep from losing their way through all of the obstacles that the life they'd chosen put in front of them, maybe someday they'd get the chance to make a different choice. "We'll manage. Together."


	38. Chapter 38

A/N: It's Christmas time again in the Looking Glass universe!

* * *

029. I have forgotten much that I thought I knew, and learned again much that I had forgotten.

* * *

Ben Krieg stood in the cargo bay, handing out packages at mail call like a gleeful Santa Claus in uniform. Later that week, he would actually be Santa Claus; one of these packages was for him, and it contained a Santa costume complete with a long white beard that he planned to wear at the holiday party.

Once the people who'd known they were getting mail had collected their goodies and left, he started looking through the packages left behind. One very large crate was for Commander Sutton, probably containing the mats and equipment she'd asked him to order. She was turning one of the old science labs into a sparring gym with Captain Bridger's blessing, and Ben knew that Brody was looking forward to it almost as much as Sutton was. The boat's gym was fine if you wanted to run on a treadmill or lift weights, but there wasn't enough room for people to really go all out while sparring.

One box and one mid-sized crate were for Lucas. Ben knew what was in the box; it was the Christmas present he'd helped Lucas find for Sutton. He had no idea _why _Lucas had chosen that particular gift, although he assumed there was some in-joke that he was missing, and he was curious to see how Sutton would react when she opened it. The mid-sized crate was a mystery to him, but the return address was ISD headquarters. Knowing Lucas, it was probably computer parts.

He wasn't going to mess with either crate. Sutton had said she'd have Sigma Team come by and shift her crate to the new gym later that day, and Ben would just give Lucas a heads up that whatever he'd ordered had arrived. He did take the box, on the off chance that Sutton might open it on her partner's behalf and ruin her holiday surprise. Grabbing packages labeled to several other members of the bridge crew, Ben headed out of the cargo bay, intent on distributing the boxes and spreading a little holiday cheer around the boat.

* * *

Lucas ducked into the cargo bay, glancing around to make sure no one else was there. It was deserted, which wasn't really a surprise given that it was the middle of second shift. The on-duty crew members were at their stations and everyone else was probably in the mess hall.

He found the crate Jack had sent him right where Ben told him it would be. He hefted it with a grunt at how heavy it was, turned to leave, and nearly dropped the damned thing on his foot when he found Sophie and half of Sigma Team standing behind him.

"Careful," Sophie scolded him, grabbing the other side of the crate and helping him steady it. "Jeez, what did you order? Rocks?"

"It's just some stuff I asked Pearson to send from headquarters," he disclaimed. It was technically true; he'd had Jack add in several spare computer parts and repair tools specifically so that when Sophie asked what was in the crate, he'd be able to tell her the truth. Lying to his partner was always a chancy proposition.

"It weighs a freaking ton," she said, shifting her grip on the crate. "Come on, I'll help you get it back to the lab."

Lucas hesitated. He had no real reason to decline the offer, and she would definitely be suspicious if he did, but he couldn't have her in the room when he opened the crate.

"What about the stuff for the gym?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Chief Young, I assume the five of you can handle getting that crate to our new gym."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll help Wolenczak move this and then I'll meet you down there." She glanced up at Lucas, and he could swear he already saw a little suspicion in her eyes. "Fair enough?"

"Yeah, of course," he replied, keeping his tone light. "Thanks, Sophie."

Once the crate was deposited on the floor of the lab, Sophie brushed off her hands and looked expectantly at him.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"Yes," he said slowly. "Wouldn't you rather go help Sigma Team set up the gym?"

"Actually, I would, but now I'm curious as to what's in here."

He sighed, deciding to give her as much of the truth as it took to convince her without tipping his hand.

"It's not just computer parts in there, Sophie."

"I had a feeling."

"Which is why _you _need to go down to the gym and give me some time to hide this stuff."

She stared at him for a long moment, and then an indulgent smile flitted across her face.

"There are Christmas presents in here, aren't there? That's why you don't want me around when you open it."

"You caught me." It had the benefit of being the truth, although not exactly in the way Sophie was thinking.

The kiss took him by surprise, her lips soft on his.

"I'm going down to the gym," she murmured, running a hand down his chest before stepping back. "I'll be there for at least a couple of hours. I promise."

"Thank you."

She gave him a warm backwards glance and then she was gone, the door sealing shut behind her. He waited until he heard the outer door close also and then knelt down next to the crate. It took a few minutes to get through the security tape and release the clamps, but eventually he got the lid off. Inside, he found the tools he'd asked for - a magnetic spanner, a miniature soldering iron, and several specialized pairs of pliers for working with sensitive electronics. The extra motherboards and silicon wafers were in a sealed box next to them. He pulled all of that out and put it on his workbench, then returned to the crate for the one thing he'd really wanted.

The metal footlocker slid easily out of the crate. It appeared to be unopened, the lock on the front without any signs of tampering. He'd told Jack that he needed the footlocker from the closet of his apartment because it contained stuff that belonged to the old _seaQuest _crew, things that he wanted to give back to them. Jack, with his typical disinterest in anything that wasn't directly related to intelligence work, had probably tossed the footlocker into the crate without a second thought. He had no reason to believe Lucas was telling him anything other than the truth.

It wasn't really a lie, Lucas decided as he opened the footlocker to reveal the stockpile of gifts he'd purchased for the _seaQuest _crew over the ten years they'd been missing. He'd always intended these things for his former shipmates. He'd just never thought they'd have the opportunity to receive them.

Now he just had to figure out how he would get the gifts to them without any of them figuring out who they were from - and without Sophie catching him at it.

* * *

The holiday party was in full swing by the time Sophie and Lucas arrived. Most of the off-duty crew members were there; the party would go on for a full 24 hours, with people free to drop in whenever they were able, so that none of the duty shifts would be short-changed.

"Do you suppose anyone's spiked the punch yet?" Sophie murmured to Lucas, who choked on a laugh.

"I don't think anyone would dare while Bridger and Ford are both here."

"Well, that's unfortunate," she sighed. "You want a glass anyway?"

"Sure. Thanks, Sophie."

He took a seat at a nearby table and watched as she moved across the room, exchanging polite greetings with Katie and Jim. Lucas suspected that Brody had developed a crush on his partner, and doubted whether anyone had told him that Lucas and Sophie were involved. It wasn't exactly a secret, but it wasn't something they brought up in casual conversation either. If the Macs' psychic pulse weapon hadn't put his memories on display for half the bridge crew to see, he doubted whether anyone aboard would know about their relationship.

"Merry Christmas, Lucas."

He looked up, smiling. "Merry Christmas, Captain. Would you like to join me?"

"I would," Bridger replied cheerfully, taking the seat next to Lucas. "I think Ben has outdone himself this year."

"It hardly even looks like the mess hall," Lucas agreed, looking around at the extravagant decorations.

"Your partner seems like she's in a good mood."

"I'm not sure why," Lucas admitted. "She's not usually a big fan of holidays. I figured she'd avoid this party like the plague, but she volunteered to come."

In the weeks since the prison break, Bridger had made it a point to try and get to know Lucas's partner. Even if he hadn't known that Lucas was in love with her, it was obvious that her opinion mattered a great deal to him. He'd been trying to get close to Lucas again, to understand what the young man had been through for the ten years that the _seaQuest _crew was missing, but it was like there was a vast gulf between them. Spending time with Sophie, who knew this Lucas better than anyone, helped him gain some insight into what Lucas's life was like now.

She was also an interesting woman in her own right. She was a brilliant strategist with a wealth of knowledge about the ongoing war, and after spending just a few coffee breaks with her he'd learned all manner of interesting things about Bourne, Stassi, the Macronesian military, and the history of the current conflict. Bridger got the feeling that she knew his main motivation in continuing to seek her out and that she'd initially been humoring him by participating in their discussions, but he also felt like she'd been slowly warming to him, and in turn he'd noticed that Lucas had been a little less standoffish recently.

"Maybe she was looking forward to seeing Lieutenant Krieg in costume."

"He's definitely a sight to behold," Lucas opined, glancing over to where Ben was holding court, passing out presents from the large red sack over his shoulder. "I don't think the beard is all that flattering, though."

"It has a certain charm," Sophie said dryly from behind Lucas, setting three glasses of punch down on the table. "Captain," she greeted Bridger, indicating one of the glasses, and Bridger took it with a nod.

"Thank you, Commander."

Sophie sat down across from Bridger. She'd seen the captain join Lucas at the table and had brought back the third cup of punch as a tacit approval of his presence. Of all of the _seaQuest _crew, Bridger was one of the few who didn't seem to have his head buried in the sand. Oh, she knew that he'd only been friendly to her at first because of her relationship with Lucas, but when she talked to him about the war, he listened. Eventually, he'd started asking questions: thoughtful, intelligent questions that showed a thorough grasp of strategy and tactics and gave her further evidence that he was every bit as shrewd as he seemed on first impression. If he weren't quite so morally inflexible, he might have done well in their division.

"Is Lieutenant Krieg wearing the costume for any particular reason, or just…ambiance?"

Lucas snickered. "Both. He's handing out gifts to the crew."

"What gifts?"

"Oh, he collected everyone's presents who wanted to participate, and he's just passing them out to the recipients."

"What's the point of that?"

Lucas rolled his eyes. "It's fun, Sophie. That way Santa gets to give people their presents." It was also a good way to get his anonymous gifts to the _seaQuest _crew without anyone figuring out who they were from. He'd tucked his gifts into the bottom of the giant bag late last night, managing to avoid being spotted by anyone. Sophie's gift was also in there, although he'd added that one in an above-board manner, simply handing it to Ben earlier today.

"Speak of the devil," Sophie muttered, and Lucas realized that Ben was heading over to their table.

"Commander Sutton!" Grinning, Ben dug into his sack of presents and withdrew a brightly wrapped box. "Santa heard that you were a good girl this year."

"Santa was sadly misinformed," she replied dryly, but took the box he offered her. A quick glance at the tag showed it was from Wolenczak, who was watching her intently. She couldn't imagine what he would have gotten for her that he'd be comfortable giving her in front of the _seaQuest _crew. Weaponry would probably upset them, alcohol wasn't permitted on the boat, and anything of a more personal nature would definitely be something he'd give her in the guaranteed privacy of his lab.

She discarded the wrapping paper to find what looked like a large white shoebox. Lucas kept his eyes on Sophie and was rewarded when she lifted the lid and saw the contents of the box. A dazzling smile stole across her face, and she looked up at him and burst into peals of laughter.

He grinned, her joy infectious, and several members of the crew watched in bemusement to see the usually humorless Commander Sutton dissolved into helpless giggles.

Ben was grinning too, unable to resist in the face of Sutton's reaction. He'd had his doubts about the plush lobster Lucas had picked out for his partner, but the stuffed animal had clearly been the right choice.

"So, you like him?"

"I love him," she declared, lifting the stuffed toy out of the box. It was bright red in color and was fairly realistic except for the fixed smile on its face. "My first lobster."

"The first of many," Lucas told her. Ben and Bridger exchanged amused looks; neither one of them knew what the deal with the lobsters was, but seeing either Lucas or Sophie this happy was rare.

"I'm naming him Pinchy," she said solemnly, laughter still sparkling in her eyes. "Thank you, Lucas."

"Just holding up my end of the deal," he replied, and then seemed to remember that they weren't alone. "Ben helped me find it. I wasn't sure he could get it here in time for Christmas."

"Of course I got it here," Ben said, affronted. "I'm Santa Claus! I have Christmas magic!"

Sophie's expression said she was only letting that slide because she liked the lobster. Ben spotted another crew member across the room he had a gift for and excused himself hurriedly.

"Let me see it," Lucas said, reaching out a hand toward Sophie, who slapped him away.

"He's a him, not an it, and get your own."

"You don't share well."

"You're just figuring that out now?" She rolled her eyes and produced a small wrapped box from her pocket. "Here. Play with this instead."

"For me?" He grinned, taking the gift. Sophie didn't usually go in for this sort of thing, and he hadn't actually expected her to buy him a present. "You didn't want to send it via Santa Claus?"

"Chain of custody," she replied cryptically, and Lucas raised his eyebrows.

"What did you get me? Explosives?"

"If you want explosives, all you have to do is make nice with Graham. No, this is a little harder to get your hands on than a block of C4."

Bridger was watching the exchange with an expression that was equal parts amusement and disbelief. The Lucas he'd known would have been horrified at the idea of getting explosives as a Christmas present. Now he didn't even sound particularly surprised by it.

The Lucas he'd known - but that was the issue, wasn't it? The Lucas he'd known had been a teenager, an exceptionally bright, sensitive kid with the entire world at his fingertips, whose biggest problems had been beating his friends at computer games and trying to understand the mysteries of girls. In the ten years that _seaQuest _had been gone, Lucas had grown up. He was still exceptionally bright, but his priorities had changed drastically, and his friends now were the kinds of people who gave explosives as gifts.

Lucas tore the wrapping paper off of the little box and gaped at the contents. Bridger leaned over his shoulder to see -

"Wire?"

The clear plastic box, with an official-looking label on the bottom, contained a spool that held about twenty feet of dull, silver-hued wire.

"It's not just _wire_," Lucas said, his tone indicating that the suggestion was blasphemy of the highest order. "This is villerium wire. This - they said this wasn't even possible. Villerium is the best semiconduction medium that's ever been discovered, but the chemical structure of the villerium alloy was too unstable and too expensive to make very much of it. It's never been available on the market. Even the military doesn't have it, outside of a couple of highly classified R&D labs." He looked up at Sophie, giving her a brilliant smile that made him look slightly unhinged. "Do you know what I can _do _with this?"

"No idea," she admitted. "But you've got that mad scientist look on your face, so I'm betting you've got hundreds of them. Pinchy would like it if you used some of it to upgrade the range on the comsets."

"Pinchy can consider it done. Sophie, how did you _get_ this? I mean, this is -" He gestured vaguely, still in shock. "People would kill to get their hands on this."

"Tell me about it," she replied, deadpan, and waved off both men's disconcerted expressions at her response. "Don't worry about it. Just keep that stuff in your lab, will you? It's safer that way."

"Are you kidding? Now that I've got this, good luck getting me to ever leave the lab again!"

They were interrupted by Ben's reappearance at their table, grinning conspiratorially. "Hey, I just found an anonymous gift for Commander Ford in my bag. Any bets on who it's from?"

Ben, Sophie and Bridger all chuckled. None of them noticed that Lucas had gone a little pale.

"I can't imagine that Commander Ford is the kind of guy who would appreciate the mystery of an anonymous gift," Sophie offered, and Bridger nodded.

"What if he has a secret admirer?" Ben said, his grin widening. "Oh, I'm never going to let him live this down. You guys want to come watch him open it?"

Sophie glanced over at Lucas, who'd plastered an apologetic expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, Ben, but I've got some stuff I need to get done tonight. The party was great, though."

"Heading back to your lab to experiment with your present?" Bridger asked knowingly.

"You caught me," he admitted, ignoring the nudge of Sophie's foot against his ankle. She knew he was lying. The only question was whether she would call him on it in front of the others.

"I actually do have some things to get done tonight," Sophie said, giving Ben and Bridger a smile. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he doesn't forget to eat and sleep while he's playing with his new toy."

That gave Lucas the opening he needed to start some good-natured bickering with his partner, which they maintained as they left the party and headed back to the lab. Once they arrived, she dropped the act, setting her lobster down on the desk before tuning to him.

"You want to tell me what that was really about?"

He considered playing dumb, but there was no point.

"No," he admitted. "I do want to go down to the moonpool, though. I have a present for Darwin."

Lucas waited for Sophie to pursue it, to try and push him into telling her what was going on. Instead, she looked over at her lobster for a long moment, then sighed.

"Tell Darwin I said hi."

He took the reprieve she was offering, grabbing his duffle bag and ducking out of the room before she could change her mind.

* * *

The moonpool was abandoned at this late hour, the lights dimmed to simulate nighttime. Lucas dropped his duffle by the side of the pool and used the vocorder to call Darwin in from his swim through the boat. He arrived at full speed, surfacing and spraying Lucas enthusiastically.

"Lucas!"

"Hey, Darwin," he said, wiping the water from his face with amusement. "Happy to see me?"

"Lucas swim!"

"Not just yet, Darwin," he told the dolphin. "Is the concept of 'gift' in the vocorder database?"

"Gift," Darwin repeated obediently. "Something given, nothing expected in return."

"Right, exactly."

"Christmas has gifts!"

"You know about Christmas, too, huh?"

"Tim tells Darwin. Birthday has gifts. Christmas has gifts."

"They're called holidays, Darwin. Christmas and birthdays are holidays." He smiled. "It's Christmas today, Darwin, and I have a gift for you."

"Gift for Darwin! Darwin likes gifts."

Lucas dug into the duffle, producing the slim blue apparatus he'd been working on, off and on, for nearly ten years.

"See this, Darwin?" He set the waterproof device down on the side of the moonpool. "The vocorder I made for you, the one you're using, was the prototype. The rough draft. It was my first attempt at translating your speech. This one here is the final product."

"Better?" Darwin asked, and Lucas nodded.

"Better. I fixed every bug in the program, expanded the vocabulary database to three times its original size, and finally figured out how to make it self-adapting. Now, if you use a word the vocorder doesn't know, it'll analyze the context of the word to try and make a translation, and it'll add that word to the database so it recognizes it in the future."

"Smart vocorder," Darwin opined. "Smart Lucas!"

Lucas grinned. "Well, I've been working on it forever, but I haven't tested it yet. Wanna see if it works?"

Darwin nodded emphatically in agreement, a behavior he'd picked up from Bridger long ago. Lucas disconnected the old yellow vocorder from the moonpool speakers, plugged in the new one, and crossed his fingers.

"Okay, Darwin, say something."

"Something!"

Lucas laughed shakily. It worked. Only time would tell if it would perform as impeccably as he hoped it would, but at least it didn't have any fatal flaws he'd missed.

"You made a new vocorder?"

He turned to find Ben Krieg leaning against the far wall.

"It's the finished product," Lucas replied. "The first one was never supposed to be the final one. Shouldn't you be wearing a Santa suit?"

Ben glanced down at his uniform. "I handed it off to Morrison from Engineering; let him take a turn passing out gifts. The guy's a nut for anything that has to do with Christmas."

"And you decided to come to the moonpool as a break from spreading good cheer?"

"I was looking for you," Ben admitted. "I hate to admit it, but it took me a while to figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

Ben came over to where Lucas was standing, taking a seat on the side of the moonpool.

"Hey, Darwin, would you mind if Lucas and I talked in private?"

Lucas frowned, dividing his attention between Ben and the dolphin. He was suspicious about why Ben wanted to talk to him without Darwin there, and he also wanted to see if the new vocorder could translate the concept of privacy.

Darwin bobbed in the water, watching Ben and Lucas with an inarguably amused expression.

"Mating private. Ben Lucas mate?"

Both men choked. Lucas was the first to recover, reaching into the pool to splash Darwin for what he was positive was an intentional joke.

"Very funny, Darwin. The new vocorder can apparently translate your sense of humor."

"Ben Lucas talk. Darwin swim through ship. Not listen to talking. Talking private."

"Thanks, Darwin."

"Thank you, Lucas. Good gift!"

With that, Darwin took off back through the aquatubes. Both Lucas and Ben were familiar with Darwin's aforementioned sense of humor, and both of them moved fast enough to avoid getting caught in the spray of water he sent toward them with his tail fluke as he departed.

"What's so secret that you couldn't talk about it in front of Darwin?"

Ben smiled at Lucas, but the expression didn't reach his eyes.

"I didn't put it together at first. I was handing out the gifts, and a bunch of them didn't have the sender's name on them. All anonymous, all with the same wrapping paper. The vids I got were right up my alley, but they could have been from anyone. Ditto for the shoe polishing kit that Ford got. And the ballet picture…plenty of people know Ford likes the ballet. My first real clue was the necklace."

Lucas was standing between Ben and the hatch, and the light from the hallway cast his face into shadow. Even if he'd been standing directly under the fluorescent bulb, Ben doubted whether he'd have been able to read the younger man's expression. Over the past ten years, Lucas had developed one hell of a poker face.

"The necklace?"

"The one you bought for Katie. I've dabbled in the jewelry business over the years; I know the good stuff when I see it, and I know what something like that costs. There are only a couple of people aboard who'd lay out that kind of money just to make Katie smile. Since one of them is me, and I didn't buy it, I was pretty sure it was you. What really clinched it for me, though, was the sextant you got for Bridger."

The sextant had been an antique, made in the 1800s. Lucas was sure that after a couple hundred years it was probably inaccurate, the arc bent out of alignment after centuries of use, but it was beautifully crafted and it suited Bridger's little collection of nautical memorabilia.

"He loved it, by the way. Everyone loved the gifts you got them. I don't know why you didn't want to take credit for them - or why you didn't stay to see us open them."

Lucas was silent for so long that Ben wondered if he was going to deny being the anonymous benefactor, to try and pretend that he hadn't been the thoughtful mind behind the selection of all of those presents that were so uniquely suited to their recipients.

"I couldn't stay," he said finally, and Ben released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep up the lie. I would've given myself away."

"Why _not_ give yourself away?" Ben demanded. "Those gifts were perfect, Lucas. We were thrilled to get them. Why wouldn't you want to tell us they were from you?"

"It's complicated, Ben."

"Try me."

"You were gone for ten years. For all of you, it was just lost time, but for me…I woke up one morning, and just like that, the life I knew was over. Everyone I cared about was gone." Lucas inspected the new vocorder, the sleek casing and its sophisticated electronic innards so much more advanced than the bulky prototype next to it. As different from its predecessor as he was from the boy that Ben and the rest of them had known. "I lost everything. If I'd had to accept that, to let go of my whole life, I probably would have lost my mind, too. So instead I let myself believe that maybe one day you'd come back and things would be okay again. For ten years, I spent my down time working on the new vocorder, even though I knew Darwin would never use it. Secretly, of course, because if anyone had known what I was doing they would've thought I really had lost my mind. And every year I went out and bought Christmas gifts I knew none of you would ever open, because the alternative was letting you go. Admitting that you were all gone." He shook his head. "I just couldn't do it."

"Lucas -"

"I wanted to give you the gifts. I wanted you to have them, but I couldn't watch you open them. I - it was too much. I've spent the last ten years dreaming that one day I'd be able to give them to you. I wasn't sure I could handle the reality of it."

"I'm sorry, Lucas." Ben's expression was filled with self-recrimination. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, Ben. You didn't disappear on purpose. But now you're back, and you're all exactly the way I remember you, and I'm…not."

"We shouldn't have expected you to be. Ten years is a long time, Lucas."

"Not for you." His lips twisted in a pained grimace. "When any of you look at me, you expect to see the person I was ten years ago. The real irony is that I haven't been that kid since the day the _seaQuest _disappeared. Losing you was the catalyst for who I eventually became, but because of it, none of you know me anymore."

"We'd like to," Ben offered tentatively. "I know you've been through a lot, and I'm not saying I can understand everything that's happened since I've been gone, but I'm always going to be your friend, Lucas. No matter how much changes, that's going to stay the same."

"I appreciate that, Ben."

"You know I'm not the only one who feels that way. Katie and Tim and Miguel, Ford and Brody and Bridger…we'd all like to get to know you as the person you are now."

"Do the others know?" Lucas asked suddenly. "About the gifts?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't discuss it with anyone. I think Katie suspects…and I think Bridger knows."

Lucas couldn't say he was surprised. They were the three who'd known him best, and therefore the most likely to see his touch in the gifts he'd selected.

"I won't tell them, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know." He did know. Ben could be slick when he needed to be, but he'd never betray a confidence. "Ben?"

"Yeah, Lucas?"

"Don't…" Lucas struggled with himself for a long moment. "Don't tell Sophie about this, all right?"

"Aw, kid," Ben murmured, sympathetic. "Sophie knows."

"How - you _told_ her?"

"Nope. But she's a smart woman, Lucas, and she loves you. If you've been buying those gifts for the last ten years, she's noticed."

"She never caught me at it. She's never even hinted that she knew."

"Probably because she knew you didn't want her to know." At Lucas's expression, Ben shrugged. "Women," he added, as though that was all the explanation necessary.

* * *

Lucas let himself into the lab, exhausted. Sophie was sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, with the lobster tucked under her arm. Lucas smiled at the scene, contemplating his partner's sleeping form. He couldn't get Ben's parting words out of his head. He'd never breathed a word of his gift-buying activities to Sophie, had never let her catch him with so much as a scrap of wrapping paper or ribbon. Still, she was the inimitable Sophie Sutton, and she had an uncanny ability to know things she shouldn't. Surely she'd had surveillance on him for a while, at least in the beginning of their partnership. It wasn't unreasonable that she might have seen something that clued her in to his holiday hobby.

He'd always been certain that if she found out, she would either throw a fit or sign him up for a psych eval. Now he wondered if she'd known all along. Maybe she'd decided to leave it alone because she realized how much he needed the ritual, the reminder of the people he'd lost.

Most of the people who knew Sophie would be surprised that he would even consider the possibility that she'd let something like that slide. He was beginning to realize that most of the people who thought they knew her didn't really know her at all.

He went about his nightly routine as usual; any attempt at stealth or trying to do things quietly was far more likely to wake her up than his normal noise level was. Regardless, she was awake by the time he climbed into bed, and she snuggled close to him as he pulled her into his arms.

"Was Pinchy keeping you company?"

Her head was resting against his chest, so he couldn't see her expression, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

"He's the best present anyone ever gave me."

"Does that count the XE-9 I got you?" he asked, to cover up the way his heart stuttered at her words. She raised herself up on one elbow to meet his gaze, green eyes suspiciously bright in the dim light.

"I could've bought the nine for myself," she told him softly. "But the lobster? The life he represents? I only have that because of you, Lucas."

He pulled her down for a tender kiss, brushing an errant tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"I love you, Sophie," he said, running his hand through the messy tumble of her hair. "I love you, and I swear I'll catch you a million lobsters if that's what it takes to make you as happy as you were tonight."

She grinned and captured his mouth again, this time in a searing kiss that left him gasping for breath.

"Make love to me, Lucas."

He started to pull her closer, then paused, making a face.

"What?"

"The lobster is watching us. It's weird."

He was rewarded with another peal of laughter as Sophie grabbed the lobster, put him on the desk, and yanked off her nightshirt, dropping it on top of the stuffed animal.

"There. He's all covered up now, so he can't offend your delicate sensibilities."

"I appreciate it, but I think you're forgetting something."

"I have forgotten much that I thought I knew, and learned again much that I had forgotten," she informed him loftily, and he snickered.

"I was talking about your shirt."

"I didn't forget it. I took it off on purpose. It's all a part of my nefarious plan to seduce you."

He smiled because she was smiling, and because it was funny, and because now she was mostly naked and moving toward him with that look in her eyes that told him he wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight. He realized in that instant that Sophie must have known about his gifts to the crew. She'd probably known all along, and she'd let him have his secret for the same reason she'd been sleeping with the lobster held to her chest.

Sophie had always believed that you did whatever you had to in order to make it though the night. If you needed a stiff drink, or a good sparring match, or time alone to tinker in your lab, that was fine. If you needed to buy gifts for dead shipmates who would never open them, or you needed to sleep with the furry red symbol of a promise for a better life tucked into your arms, so be it.

"Not tonight," he murmured against her skin, not realizing he'd spoken aloud.

"What?" she asked, breathless, and he nuzzled her shoulder.

"I need you tonight," he told her softly. "Nothing else. Just you."

Her fingers found his, sliding deftly between his to lace their hands together.

"I'm here," she promised, and he smiled into the darkness.

"Merry Christmas, Sophie."

"Merry Christmas, Lucas."


	39. Chapter 39

A/N: Sorry for the delay. This chapter was supposed to have Westphalen in it, but I got sidetracked, so you get Miguel instead. I promise she'll show up before the end of the series.

* * *

024. In fact, it is partly about that that I have come to say a last word.

* * *

Lucas was at the weapons station, which meant his back was to the bridge doors. Still, he could pinpoint the exact moment when Sophie arrived on the bridge. There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, the air humming with an electricity that he was always surprised no one else seemed to feel.

"Good morning, Commander Sutton," he said when she reached his station, looking up from his display long enough to give her a quick smile.

"Morning, Commander," she replied dryly. They'd already seen each other this morning, of course; less than an hour ago, they'd been in bed together, engaged in a far more enjoyable exchange. This friendly greeting was just part of the discretion that ISD required of them, like the separate quarters Sophie had requested and received when her orders to remain aboard _seaQuest _had come through. Someone's sense of humor had clearly been involved in that assignment, since Sophie had ended up with Lucas's old quarters on C deck. She kept enough of her gear there to make her quarters appear lived in, and she actually did sleep there on nights when Lucas worked through third shift.

That had been happening less over the past few weeks, which was a relief for Sophie. Lucas had a tendency to work straight through a task until it was finished, with total disregard for things like food or sleep. He'd been working with Hitchcock and Bridger to update the boat's software and hardware, making it compatible with the current technology the UEO was using. It was apparently an enormous task, one he'd been working on since he'd arrived on the boat, and Sophie suspected that part of the reason he'd looked so worn down when she and Zeta Team had finally joined him was that he'd been working around the clock for months.

He was working hours now that were fairly equivalent to hers: all of first shift and half of second, with the tail end of third shift tacked onto the beginning of first when he needed to put in a little extra time. She liked to think that her presence aboard the boat had something to do with his reduced hours, but it was more likely that the updates were drawing to a close and needed less attention from him now. As tempting as she knew that he found her, he would never forsake a job that needed to be done in order to indulge his personal desires. That was one of the things she liked best about him.

"Is that for me?"

She looked up, startled, and realized she'd been staring blankly into space while Lucas waited patiently for her to give him the disc she was carrying. Maybe he wasn't the only one who was still operating on a sleep deficit.

"It is," she confirmed, putting it into his outstretched hand. "Tactical data about the region, compiled by Pearson's people. There are a few anomalies. Look it over for me when you get a chance and tell me what you think."

That was Sophie-speak for 'I think they made a mistake and I want you to fix it'. Luckily, Lucas spoke fluent Sophie, and he set the disc aside to read as soon as he finished the systems diagnostic he was currently in the middle of.

"Anything else going on?"

"Yes. In fact, it is partly about that that I have come to say a last word. Wallace called this morning."

He smiled at the way she brightened when she said the words. She didn't get overly excited about many things, but Zeta Team had always been her soft spot.

"Does he know yet when we're going to get them back?"

"They'll be here on Monday."

"That soon?" Lucas was surprised. "I thought it would take longer for them to be medically cleared. They were in a prison camp for months."

"They're the best," Sophie said, as though that explained everything.

"You and I both know that," Lucas agreed patiently. "But not only did they have to pass the physical, they also had to pass psych evals, get debriefed by an intel coordinator at ISD, and re-qualify on the physical fitness test and the shooting range. For all eight of them to manage that in less than six weeks -"

"Oh, I meant to tell you," she interrupted. "We're back up to ten."

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised by that, now that he understood the hierarchy of the ISD teams. If Sophie was right, people would have been lined up to transfer to their team as soon as word got out that they were down two members.

"I assume Laughlin is one of them."

"Of course."

That would probably be the easier of the two transitions; the entire team, including Lucas and Sophie, already knew and liked Laughlin. Lucas didn't think she'd have much trouble fitting in with the rest of them.

"And the other one?"

"Valerie Jezek. Ring any bells?"

Lucas shook his head.

"None for me either. She's a PO second class, she's been with ISD for the past eighteen months, and she's currently on Kappa team."

"Did you pick her?"

"Technically," she replied, shrugging. "On strong recommendations from Wallace and Jovasti. I don't think I've ever actually met her, but her file is good and they both like her."

"I guess that's fair," Lucas said slowly. When he'd joined Zeta Team, it had already been a seamless unit, and none of those team members had been killed or transferred out until now. He wasn't really sure what the policy was for bringing new people in. "Laughlin's a sniper, so I'm guessing Jezek has a tech background?"

Sophie nodded. Melahar had been tech, Carter a sniper. Zeta Team wasn't just looking for warm bodies, they were looking for people who could supply the skills they'd lost when Melahar and Carter had been killed. "She worked crypto before she was tapped for ISD. According to Wallace, she's also something of an amateur hacker."

"A woman after my own heart."

"I thought you'd like that." They shared a smile, and Sophie tilted her head toward the hatch. "I'm going down to the mess for some coffee. Want me to bring you back anything?"

Lucas shook his head, his attention already drifting back to his station.

"No thanks. I'll let you know what I find on the disc."

* * *

"Commander Sutton?"

Sophie was leaving the mess hall, coffee in hand, when she heard someone calling her name. She turned to find Jonathan Ford approaching her, and she slowed to let him catch up to her. She liked Ford as well as she liked any of the _seaQuest _crew. There was a serious air about him that she found refreshing, since most of them were too informal for her taste.

"Commander Ford. What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping I could get your professional opinion on something."

"Of course."

"It's in my quarters," he explained, gesturing down the hall. "It shouldn't take more than a few minutes, if you've got time now."

"Now I'm curious, Commander," she replied. He got the feeling that she was merely humoring him, but he didn't mind being humored if she could lay his concerns to rest. "Lead on."

His quarters weren't far from the mess hall, and they were as tidy as she'd expected them to be. There was a gray plastic box on his desk that she recognized, and she set down her coffee to pick it up.

"You got an XE-9," she said, the insignia on the outside of the box cluing her in even before she flipped up the lid of the box to find the gun resting on the soft velvet lining.

"I know you carry an XE-9. I was hoping you could give me your opinion on this one."

"It's beautiful." Sophie picked the gun up out of the box, turning it over in her hands. "And it's in perfect condition. I'd guess it's never even been fired."

"I got it as a Christmas gift," Ford admitted. "It was anonymous."

"Expensive for an anonymous gift," Sutton said, and Ford shrugged.

"There was a lot of that going around this year," he told her. "You should see the necklace Katie got."

"Oh?" she replied, but it was more for form's sake than anything. She was clearly enamored with the gun. Her fingers moved nimbly over it, ejecting the magazine and snapping back the slide to inspect the chamber. "It's not loaded."

"I've been…hesitant to use it."

She looked up then, finally distracted from the gun.

"You want to make sure it's not sabotaged."

It wasn't really a question, but he nodded anyway. "It may sound a little paranoid, but I don't know who gave it to me, and I just wanted an expert to look it over before I start carrying it on duty. Rumor has it that you know more about these guns than practically anyone else on the planet, so I figured I'd ask you."

"That's very sensible of you, Commander," she told him, most of her attention returning to the gun in front of her, which she was field-stripping with impressive speed. "I do feel like I should warn you that flattery won't get you far with me, although it's nice to know that my reputation is intact…and there you go."

"What? What did you find?"

"See for yourself," she invited him, gesturing to the components of the gun. "Everything's in perfect condition. I don't see any weak or corroded spots in the metal. The magazine spring is tight and the trigger apparatus is intact. It has a really smooth pull; that's one of the benefits of the nine over the eight."

"So you don't think somebody messed with it?"

"I don't see anything that would support that idea, and I'm about as suspicious as they come, Commander. Given the way the XE-9 is built, there are seven fundamental ways to tamper with it. I don't see any of them here."

"Is it safe for me to carry?"

"Not without shooting it first," she said dryly. "Take it to the range, shoot off a couple hundred rounds to get the feel of it, and then yeah, you're fine to carry it. Assuming you can hit the target with it."

Her needling was good-natured, and he grinned at her. "Give me a few days with it and maybe I'll challenge you on the range," he retorted, drawing a laugh from her.

"I'm looking forward to it," she told him, standing up. She handed the box back to him, picked up her coffee, and started for the door, then hesitated. "You know, my XE-9 was a Christmas present, too, back when they first came out."

"Oh, yeah? Who was it from?"

"Wolenczak," she replied, and hid her smile at his surprise. For an otherwise smart and observant group of people, the _seaQuest _crew had some interesting blind spots where her partner was concerned. "Problem, Commander?"

"What?" Ford blinked several times, shaking off his reverie. "No. Sorry. Thanks for your help, Commander Sutton."

"You came to me for firearm advice and you let me play with your new toy," she replied, amusement coloring her tone. "You can call me Sophie."

"Jon," he replied, offering her his hand.

* * *

Lucas rubbed his eyes, taking a break from both the systems diagnostic and Sophie's tactical reports. The weapons station diagnostic should have been finished before lunch, but several errors had popped up that suggested some of the old subroutines hadn't integrated correctly into the new system. He'd worked through lunch and the remainder of the afternoon, re-installing the program that should have eliminated the problem to start with, and now he was re-running the diagnostic to see if the errors had resolved. The diagnostic would run without him until it hit an error, so he was using the down time to flip through the tactical data ISD had sent to Sophie.

His eyes were refusing to cooperate, though, the words blurry and difficult to read on the screen of the laptop that he carried everywhere with him. It was contributing to the headache starting to develop -

Lucas froze, realizing with sudden dread the error he'd made. He'd assumed that the small font and the brightness of the computer screen were bothering his eyes, and that the vague feelings of nausea and lightheadedness were from skipping breakfast and lunch in favor of completing the diagnostic. It wasn't until the headache actually started that he realized what was happening. The pain building in his head wasn't from hunger or tension. He hadn't had a migraine in over six months, but there was no mistaking the throbbing pain that was setting in behind his eyes.

The ISD surgeon who'd extracted the shrapnel from the side of his head after the grenade explosion had rightly predicted that he would end up with migraines. They'd tapered off in frequency over the years, but they were still impressive in their intensity. The meds that the surgeon had prescribed for him worked well to abort the headaches, but only if he took them during the prodrome, before the headache actually set in. He'd been so annoyed by the unexpected errors in the programming that he'd ignored the symptoms for too long. Now he was going to be stuck with the headache and all of its associated misery until it was finished with him.

He reached for his comset and hesitated, checking the time on the systems display. Sophie was supposed to be in a meeting with Brody right now, going over contingency plans for hypothetical security breaches on the boat. He didn't want to interrupt her, since there wasn't really anything she could do to help him. Besides, she was probably going to be angry that he'd neglected to take the meds until it was too late to stave off the migraine. He wasn't sure he could handle her irritation on top of the pounding in his head.

Lucas put the diagnostic on hold, knowing that he needed to get to his quarters and into bed before the pain became incapacitating and someone ended up dragging him to Sickbay. The last thing he wanted was to end up in a diagnostic bed under Dr. Smith's watchful gaze. When he started to stand, he realized that taking care of things himself might not be an option at this point. His headache intensified and his vision started to grey, and he grabbed reflexively for the edge of the console.

He managed to stay on his feet, although he wasn't sure how reliable his balance was. Miraculously, no one seemed to have noticed his difficulty yet. The second shift was on the bridge now, Ford engaged in a conversation with Henderson at the helm and most of the others occupied at their stations. The only person who didn't seem particularly busy was Miguel Ortiz, who was tapping at the WSKRS controls in a way that suggested he was just going through the motions. Lucas caught his eye and gestured for him to come over to the weapons station.

"Everything okay, Commander?" Usually Miguel had trouble calling Lucas by rank, but now concern had driven all of the awkwardness out of the situation. "You look like hell."

"I have a headache," he explained, keeping his voice quiet to avoid attracting the attention of the rest of the bridge crew. He didn't want it all over the boat. "Would you mind giving me a hand getting back to my quarters?"

Miguel was dubious - if Lucas was half as ill as he looked, he needed to go to Sickbay, not to his quarters - but Lucas didn't ask for favors from his old friends anymore, and he'd never been one to ask for help lightly. He had to be desperate if he was asking now, and Miguel wasn't about to turn him down.

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Just grab my laptop and keep me from falling on my face."

Miguel picked up the computer, trying not to smile. Lucas might have changed a whole lot on the outside, but that response harkened back to the sarcastic teenager that Miguel knew.

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Nope." Lucas entered the lock code to Sophie's quarters, leaning heavily against the sturdy metal doorframe. "But it's better than the alternative."

He got the code right after only one false start, which was impressive considering that his vision was getting more blurred by the second and now he was seeing sparkles at the edges of his visual field. At this point, the only things keeping him upright were his refusal to collapse in the hallway and the promise of a real bed on the other side of the hatch. He decided on principle not to give any credit to the doorframe or Miguel's arm, although their combined physical support was probably contributing more at this point than his willpower was.

"Don't you think you should ask Commander Sutton if she minds you using her quarters?" Miguel persisted as the hatch swung open and Lucas stumbled inside. From what he'd heard about Sutton, she wouldn't appreciate having the two of them letting themselves into her quarters, and rumor had it that she tended to express her disapproval with brute force. He didn't want his favor for Lucas to end up with him getting decked by a pissed-off senior officer.

"If I crash in her quarters without asking, she'll be a little annoyed. If I let you into the lab that I use as my quarters, where she also happens to be storing classified intel, she'll be more than a little annoyed. It's risk stratification." He collapsed gratefully onto his old bed. The pillow smelled like Sophie, which drew a smile from him even as another lance of pain shot through his head. "Miguel?"

"I'm here," Miguel replied from off to his right. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? I can go get Dr. Smith."

"Don't bother," Lucas sighed. "She won't do anything but dope me up on painkillers, and then it'll take me twice as long to shake it off and get back to work. The headaches don't last as long as the narcotics do. Trust me," he added, Miguel's surprise registering even through his blurry vision. "I've done this before."

"I don't remember you having headaches like this," Miguel said. "Is it a new thing?"

"Not that new."

Miguel turned, his heart sinking as he saw Commander Sutton entering the room. He hadn't had much interaction with her personally, but the stories he'd heard about her from some of the members of Sigma Team were enough to instill a healthy fear of her. The last thing he wanted was to get caught in her quarters without her permission to be there. Lucas didn't look worried about her response, however. He squinted up at her as she pulled the hatch shut, one hand shielding his eyes from the overhead light.

"Motion sensor?" he asked finally, and she nodded.

"You triggered it when you opened the hatch," she explained. "It signaled my comset that someone was in here. What's going on?"

"The commander wasn't feeling well," Miguel replied, glancing over at Lucas, who had regained a little bit of color but still looked pale under the fluorescent lighting. "I offered to help him to his quarters."

"Except that his quarters are full of classified data, so you came here." Sutton moved over to the bed, giving her partner a quick once-over before returning her attention to Miguel. "Did it occur to you that Sickbay might have been a better choice, Chief Ortiz?"

"Yes, ma'am, it did," Miguel replied immediately, and Lucas sighed.

"Let it go, Sophie. If I'd gone to Sickbay, they would have pumped me full of drugs and I'd be useless for days."

Sutton's gaze met Miguel's, and he choked back a laugh when she rolled her eyes. None of the rumors he'd heard mentioned that she had a sense of humor.

"So you didn't let the apparently sensible Chief Ortiz take you to Sickbay because you didn't want them to give you pain meds?" she asked conversationally, moving to the storage locker at the foot of the bed and pulling something out of it. Miguel couldn't tell what it was, but it was small enough that she could conceal it in her hand. He really hoped it wasn't a weapon.

"In case it's escaped your notice, Sophie, I have a _headache_. Could the two of you please go away so that I can suffer in silence?"

"Answer one more question for me first."

Lucas, who'd closed his eyes against the pain that the light was causing him, opened them again to glare at his partner. Her answering smile was suspiciously cheerful, and Lucas yelped when her hand pressed against the side of his neck.

"Sophie!"

She pulled her hand away, showing both men the syringe she'd taken from the storage locker and then injected into her partner. "Here's the question: what, from your years of experience in working with me, made you think that I'd be any less likely to drug you than Dr. Smith would?"

"I don't believe you," Lucas muttered, his speech already starting to slur. "I have a job to do -"

"Neither Captain Bridger nor Lieutenant Commander Hitchcock strike me as incapable of functioning without your supervision for a couple of days. I'm sure they won't do any serious damage to your system upgrades."

"But your tactical data -"

"- can _wait_, Lucas. You look terrible. Shut up and go to sleep."

"What'd you give me?"

"Dr. Adler's favorite cocktail." Adler was one of the ISD physicians. Lucas knew him because he'd been the one in charge of Sophie's case when she'd been in the coma. He was also known for having a heavy hand with his narcotics, a reputation which was apparently warranted.

"I can't feel my face."

"You aren't going to be feeling much of anything for the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours." Sophie patted his arm absently, turning back to Miguel. "Thanks for dragging him down here, Chief."

It was a dismissal, albeit a polite one. Miguel hesitated, eyeing Lucas's prone form. He wasn't quite unconscious, but he obviously wasn't in any shape to take care of himself.

"I can stay here with him, ma'am, in case he needs anything," he offered, and Sophie gave him a brief smile.

"So can I," she replied easily. "And since these are my quarters, it actually makes more sense that way."

"Uh, yes, ma'am."

"Have a nice shift, Ortiz." She paused, then added, "I suspect that Lucas would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself."

"Of course," Miguel replied, a little offended that she thought he needed the warning to keep his mouth shut. "We were friends before all of this happened, Commander. We all were. We still care about each other, even if the rest of the world has gone to hell between now and then."

"I'm beginning to figure that out, Chief."


	40. Chapter 40

A/N: This story is officially over 100K, which makes it the longest fic I've ever posted, and I still have ten chapters left! Thanks again to everyone who's taken the time to read and review - without you, I would've lost my momentum months ago, and this fic might never have gotten this far.

* * *

051. Alternate: You will be glad to have these safe again.

* * *

The beginning of third shift found Sophie sitting on the bunk in her quarters, wrapped in a thick blanket, with her back against the bulkhead. Her laptop was perched on her knees, but for once she wasn't reviewing tactical data or writing up mission profiles or contingency plans.

She frowned at the screen as the computer took its turn, moving its knight to E7. It was a stupid move unless it was trying to draw her out, and even then she would have had to be equally stupid to fall for it. She moved her own knight to C5, ignoring her automated opponent's ploy in favor of continuing with her original strategy. It was more fun to play chess against Lucas than against the computer; the latter had a distinct lack of imagination and creativity that made the game far less fun. Lucas was still mad at her for drugging him earlier in the week, however, and he'd made a point of becoming engrossed in his work whenever she was around. Hence her presence in her assigned quarters tonight, rather than with him in his lab. He hadn't actually kicked her out, but she knew when she wasn't wanted, and she also knew that he'd get over it faster if she gave him a few days to himself.

A knock at the hatch distracted her, and she slid her left hand under the blanket, her fingers wrapping around the grip of her gun as her right hand tapped the remote unlocking code into the computer. Being able to remotely unlock the door did add a level of security risk to the room, but she'd decided it was outweighed by not having to get up to open the door. In addition to letting her laze in bed, it also meant that anyone entering the room would have to take a moment to locate her, which was an additional moment she'd have to respond if it turned out to be, say, a Macronesian infiltration team on the other side of the door.

"Enter," she called, hoping she wasn't going to have to shoot whoever was knocking. Keeping the gun concealed under the fluffy throw blanket made good tactical sense, but it was her favorite blanket and she'd hate to have to put a hole in it.

The door opened, Jim Brody stepping into the room. She took her finger off the trigger but maintained her grip on the gun, just in case.

"Lieutenant Brody." Sophie tilted her head, giving him an assessing look. "Is there a problem?"

"What?" he said, looking startled. "Why would there be a problem?"

"Well, it's a little late for a social call, isn't it?" she pointed out, and Brody gave her a charming smile.

"Then I guess I owe you an apology. I was just heading back to my quarters, and I decided to stop by and see what you were up to. I thought you might like some company."

Sophie managed not to roll her eyes. Brody had as formidable an ego as any of the special ops guys she'd ever worked with, up to and including both Demarin and Alex Griffin. He was lucky he had enough talent to back up some of that arrogance or she would have already made the effort to knock him down a couple of pegs. She'd heard about his previous unfortunate run-in with her partner's right hook and had thought that would be enough to temper his ego a little. Clearly, it hadn't had a permanent effect.

"Lieutenant -"

"Please, call me Jim." He shut the door and came a little closer, his intentions written clearly across his face.

"Lieutenant," she repeated firmly. "You're a security officer, so you qualified as at least a marksman, right?"

"I'm a sharpshooter," he replied smugly. "Pistol and rifle."

She was classed as an expert in both, but she wasn't sure that one-upping him with her qualifications would help the situation.

"Are you familiar with the phrase 'that's too much gun for you to handle'?" His self-satisfied expression slipped a little, and she nodded. "Trust me, Lieutenant. I am _way _too much gun for you to handle."

"How can you be sure?" he asked, cockiness sneaking back into his voice. "I have it on good authority that I have really skilled hands."

She had real trouble not laughing at his response. This guy was unbelievable.

"I could just shoot you now and save us both some time," she offered. She pinpointed the moment when he realized that he could only see one of her hands, a startled look crossing his face and that smug grin finally disappearing.

"You aren't serious."

"I'm always serious, Lieutenant."

"You -"

Brody was interrupted by another knock at the door. Sophie adjusted her grip on the gun and keyed in the remote door code again, glad for the interruption.

"Come in!"

Lucas entered the room, looking startled to find Brody in his partner's quarters. While they were eyeing each other, Sophie flipped on the gun's safety and shoved it under her pillow. This might get ugly and, unlike most of the confrontations she dealt with, she didn't think this one would benefit from the addition of firearms.

"Am I interrupting something?" He addressed the question to Sophie, but it was Brody who answered.

"As a matter of fact, Lucas, I -"

"- was just leaving," Sophie finished for him. When he started to open his mouth again, she added, "Good night, Lieutenant."

He might be an irrepressible womanizer, but Sophie had to give him credit for realizing when it was time to retreat.

"Good night, Commander," Brody said, giving her a half-hearted salute as he turned toward the door. "And good luck," he murmured under his breath to Lucas on the way out the door. Once he was gone, Lucas secured the hatch behind him, then turned to Sophie with his arms folded across his chest.

"What was that about?"

Sophie snorted, saving her chess game and setting the computer aside. Judging from the look on her partner's face, she wasn't going to be getting back to her game tonight. "What do you think?"

"Was he hitting on you?"

"You know him better than I do, Lucas," she pointed out. "Tell me he doesn't consider himself God's gift to women."

"That doesn't matter," Lucas snapped. "You're off limits."

"Oh, yeah?" She propped her elbow on one raised knee, her chin in her hand as she watched him with interest. "Did you tell him that?"

"Of course not. I do know what 'discreet' means." Of course, half the senior staff of _seaQuest_ now knew about their relationship, but the psychic pulse hadn't been his fault.

"Given the size of his ego and the fact that he wasn't affected by the psychic pulse, I'm guessing he's not a telepath," Sophie said. Lucas had told her which of the crew had ended up poking around in his head, and Brody hadn't been on the list. Also, people who knew exactly what other people thought of them tended not to have many illusions about their own prowess. "So how is he supposed to know that you and I are involved? All he knows is that I don't wear a wedding ring. And it may have escaped your notice, but most people consider me to be a fairly attractive woman. I'm surprised it took as long as it did for him to make a pass at me."

"It definitely hasn't escaped my notice." He rubbed a hand over his face, frustrated, and she gave him a disbelieving look.

"Don't tell me you're jealous."

"Of course I'm jealous!"

Sophie laughed, honestly surprised. "Lucas, that's ridiculous. Do you really think I would cheat on you? Especially with one of your old friends?"

"No," he sighed. She patted the spot next to her on the bed and he flopped down, wrapping his arm around her waist. She leaned into him, pressing a kiss against the line of his jaw, which was still tight with anger.

"Relax, Lucas. You don't have anything to worry about."

"I know that. I do," he replied with another sigh. "It's not that I don't trust you. It's just - I've never been faced with this before. No one at ISD ever dared to try and make a move on you."

"Pearson," she murmured, and he shook his head.

"Whatever happened between you and Jack is long over."

She stiffened, her expression unreadable as she pulled away from him.

"Who says there was ever anything between us?"

"I'm not an idiot, Sophie," he told her flatly. "It was before my time, so it doesn't have anything to do with our relationship, but don't lie to me."

"I gave you my word that I wouldn't lie to you," she replied, her words carefully chosen. "If you're asking me to tell you -"

"I'm not going to ask you, because I don't want to know," he said. "I know that it's been over between you two since before I came along. Pearson flirting with you doesn't threaten me because I know you aren't interested in him anymore."

"But you thought I'd go for Brody?" she demanded, offended. "That arrogant little_ puppy_?"

The laugh escaped him before he could stop it. "Is there any way I can convince you to call him that to his face?"

"The next time he hits on me, I will."

"You think there's going to be a next time?"

"I barely made a dent in his ego," she replied with a sigh. "He's regrouping. I give it two weeks, max."

"Zeta Team will be back tomorrow," Lucas pointed out, a gleam in his eye at the thought. "If they get word that the chief of security aboard the boat is pursuing you and won't take 'no' for an answer -"

"Then what?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "You and I both make it a point to stay out of their personal lives, Lucas, and they stay out of ours. Not to mention that they know I'm perfectly capable of getting rid of any unwanted attention. This has nothing to do with them."

He smiled and said nothing. Sophie could believe whatever she wanted, but he knew without a doubt that the members of their team would have something to say about Brody making a pass at Sophie. Not that Brody was really the type to force his attentions on any woman; Lucas knew Jim was a good guy at heart, but he could be hard to discourage sometimes. If he thought Sophie was just playing hard to get, he'd keep trying to turn up the charm until somebody either kicked his ass or convinced him to give up. He had a good idea which one of those options the majority of the team would prefer, and the jealousy he was feeling right now made it sound very appealing.

"Did you come down here to throw a temper tantrum, or did you have some other initial motivation?" Sophie asked, recalling his attention to the present, and he shrugged.

"I actually came down here to apologize for being a jerk," he admitted. "Instead, I acted like a jerk again. Maybe it's a progressively worsening condition."

"If it is, I'll beat it out of you," she promised solemnly, her eyes sparkling. "I would like to hear whatever apology you put together, though. I don't want to waste all the hours you spent rehearsing it."

He snorted, but when he spoke again, he sounded sincere. "I'm sorry, Sophie. I know you did the sensible thing, giving me the pain meds. I just…"

"You don't like being powerless, or having other people make your decisions for you. I know." She shrugged. "I won't apologize for doing what needed to be done, but I am sorry you were unhappy about it."

"Thank you for taking care of me when I was too stubborn to do it myself."

"You're welcome." Sophie tilted her face up to kiss him and was surprised by the intensity of his response, his mouth rough against hers. She yielded willingly to him as he pushed her down onto the bed. His kisses were fierce, searing and passionate, and when he finally broke for air she was breathless.

"Too much?" he murmured, and she grinned.

"I'm going to have to make you jealous more often."

* * *

The next morning, _seaQuest_ met up with the _Vigilant_, the sister ship of the _Dauntless_, which was assigned to bring Zeta Team back to _seaQuest_. The ISD team transfer went off without a hitch, Sigma Team minus Laughlin departing as Zeta Team came aboard. She and Lucas were there, both to say goodbye to Sigma Team and to welcome their own team back. The entire team looked as hale and healthy as she could have asked for, in good spirits as they grabbed their gear and, under her partner's direction, headed down to stow it in their new quarters.

Having drawn the short straw, Sophie found herself in charge of taking the extra supplies they'd brought with them down to the lab. It was mostly stuff her partner had requisitioned from ISD headquarters, although she'd tossed in a few requests of her own. Truth be told, although she was thrilled to have her team back, she wasn't sorry to get a few minutes alone.

She dropped the boxes just inside the inner door to the lab, her thoughts wandering. She was still preoccupied with the events of last night. It had nothing to do with Brody; she knew exactly what to expect from a guy like him. No, her preoccupation was because, once again, her partner had managed to surprise her. Lucas was as thorough and detail-oriented in bed as he was in every other aspect of his life. Any particular kiss or caress that she liked, he committed to memory, and he used them in combination to devastating effect. He always put her pleasure before his own, making sure she found fulfillment before he did. He was easily the best lover she'd ever had. Last night had been uncharted territory for them. There had been none of the tenderness or the gentle touches she was accustomed to. His passion was out of control, their lovemaking primal and uninhibited. It had only been like that between them once before, after a mission where he'd taken a foolish risk to protect her from harm, and she'd been the aggressor then, not him.

She'd initially been joking when she'd threatened to make him jealous more often, but if last night was the kind of response it provoked, she was going to seriously consider it.

"Sophie?"

_Speak of the devil_, she thought inanely, and flipped on the mic to her comset.

"Lucas. Is everyone moved in?"

"They checked out the locks on the doors, dropped off their stuff inside their quarters, and pronounced themselves satisfied."

"Very low maintenance, our people," she murmured, smiling. _You will be glad to have these safe again_, the senior intel officer from the _Vigilant _had said as her team disembarked from their launch. He was right; even though they weren't exactly safe, given the fact that they were aboard a boat on the border of a confederation with whom they were currently at war, having her team back under her command felt good.

"We'll meet you in the conference room for the orientation in five, unless you need help with the rest of that gear."

"No, I got it all." She glanced over at the boxes, dropped carelessly next to the high-security door, and wondered whether the team had picked up that habit from her or if she'd acquired it after long association with them. "I'll be there in five."

* * *

Jovasti was waiting for her outside the conference room when she arrived, and he pulled her aside.

"Everything all right, Chief?"

"Yes, ma'am. How's your arm?"

She glanced down reflexively toward the scar on her arm, currently hidden by the sleeve of her uniform. It was the sole remnant of the bullet that had clipped her during the prison break six weeks ago.

"Good as new, Chief."

"Please tell me that the two of you managed to stay out of trouble while we were gone," he added with a grin, and she laughed. She'd been concerned that he might have been waiting for her because there was a problem that needed her attention, but it seemed like he just wanted to catch up.

"More or less," she prevaricated. "Did everyone get to go home for the holidays?"

"Half the team went home with Demarin," he said, knowing why she was asking the question. Several members of the team didn't have much in the way of family, and Sutton was making sure that no one had been alone. Since Demarin had joined the team, that hadn't been much of an issue; he had half a dozen siblings, and holidays at his parents' house were an insane free-for-all attended by the entire family and as many of their friends as they could pack into the house. Anyone who didn't have a place to go went home with him as a matter of course. "I heard that two of his brothers spent the day fighting over who got to sit next to Martinez at dinner."

"That must've been interesting."

"You haven't heard the half of it. If I'd known how dramatic holidays at the Demarin house would be, I might've skipped my own family dinner in favor of theirs."

"That good, huh?"

"Better." He paused, trying to decide how much he could get away with asking. Sutton seemed to be in a good mood, so he was probably safe. "Did you and Wolenczak have a nice holiday?"

Sophie smiled, thinking of the lobster Lucas had given her. "Lieutenant Krieg, the morale officer, put together a party for the crew. It wasn't a bad Christmas, all things considered."

"I heard something from a friend at headquarters that I thought you might be interested in."

"Oh?" she asked, leaning against the bulkhead. They'd stepped away from the door to the conference room to avoid being overheard by the rest of the team, and now they were in the next corridor over, which didn't appear to get a lot of foot traffic. That was a good thing, since Jovasti didn't particularly want anyone but Sutton hearing this.

"There's a Macronesian research facility near one of their maximum-security prisons. Near the prison where Griffin's team was being held, actually. There were rumors that they were experimenting on prisoners of war."

"That's terrible," she said, her expression carefully blank.

"Yeah, but a few weeks before our team was rescued, that research facility was attacked. Somebody blew up half the labs and stole all of their data as well as some of their more portable equipment. The Macs blamed it on UEO terrorists."

"It sounds like they got what was coming to them."

"No arguments here," Jovasti agreed quietly. "One of the things that was stolen was a spool of villerium wire; high-tech stuff with a bunch of complex applications. It's apparently nearly impossible to get your hands on, and it's worth more than half a million on the black market."

"That's an interesting story, Jovasti, but why are you telling me?"

"I was just wondering what you gave Commander Wolenczak for Christmas this year."

She'd worked with Jovasti for too damned long, and he knew her far too well. Stealing the equipment was supposed to be just another way to slow down their research, the same as stealing their notes, but when she'd found out what the wire actually was, she couldn't resist giving it to Lucas. She'd even gotten it approved through the admiral, who'd agreed that the stuff would be far more valuable to them in her partner's hands than tucked away in a research lab or sold on the black market to finance their operations. She just hadn't gotten around to telling Lucas how she'd obtained it.

"Is he going to hear this story?"

"Only if you want him to, ma'am," Jovasti replied immediately. "No one else has. My friend is keeping it under wraps, on the admiral's orders, and he doesn't have enough context to put everything together anyway."

"I'm sure Wolenczak will be interested in hearing this," she said finally. "Eventually. From me."

"Yes, ma'am."

"No one else on the team -"

"No, ma'am. Just you and me."

"Now it's just me," she informed him. "You don't know anything about it."

"About what, ma'am?"

"Exactly."

* * *

The orientation was a basic review of what she expected from the team, the sort of thing she wouldn't have bothered with if there hadn't been two new team members. Those two paid rapt attention, but she knew she had to be boring the others. She went over policies and procedures, noticing that several of the more seasoned veterans' eyes were glazing over. Boring presentation or not, they were going to pay for that tomorrow morning in the gym.

Kelson, who gave every appearance of being as enthralled as Laughlin and Jezek, met her knowing look with a surreptitious wink. He knew full well that anyone who wasn't paying attention now would pay in bruises tomorrow, and he was doing his best to avoid it.

When she finished with the basic overview, she paused, intentionally not looking over at Lucas. He'd opposed this part of the plan when she'd first proposed it to him, but eventually he'd agreed, and she wasn't going to give him the chance to change his mind now.

"On top of all of that, I also want you to make friends."

"Friends, ma'am?" asked Demarin, perking up a little at the idea.

"The _seaQuest _crew tends to be insular, for obvious reasons." They'd lost ten years of their lives and woken up in a world that was vastly different than the one they'd known. The only people who really understood what they'd been through were their fellow shipmates, so it was no surprise that they preferred each other's company. "In day-to-day operations, that doesn't particularly matter, but if things start to go sideways at any point while we're aboard, I don't want us to get blindsided by something we might have known about if we were hearing all of the boat's gossip. Each of you will choose one or more of the enlisted crew to make nice with. Cultivate a friendship with them the same way you would with an intelligence asset from one of our ally confederations: no blackmail, no threats. Just play nicely with them and be a good listener."

"On a sub, you have a limited number of people to talk to, and you can only tell the same stories so many times," Lucas added, speaking from personal experience. He didn't like the idea of Sophie ordering Zeta Team to befriend the crew for the purpose of gathering intelligence, but they'd talked about it earlier and he had to admit that her reasoning was sound. She'd also taken into account several things that she wasn't telling the team, including that Zeta Team wasn't accustomed to being stuck underwater with only each other for company, their prison stay notwithstanding. Left to their own devices, they would remain as insular as the _seaQuest _crew, and after a few weeks they'd probably be ready to strangle each other. If Sophie ordered them to socialize, they would, and then they'd have new people to talk to and something to occupy them when they weren't on a mission. "Anything new makes the rounds within hours and gets rehashed for days. They'll be so glad to have a fresh audience that they'll probably tell you more than they should."

"In return, feel free to tell them some of your stories," Sophie said. "Non-classified stories only, which will limit your repertoire, but I can think of at least a few that they would probably find entertaining."

Graham and Martinez both snickered, and Lucas wondered if the two of them were thinking of the same story.

"Choosing your new friends is your purview, within limits. Among the ten of you, I'd like you to have at least two contacts from Engineering and two from Security. If there are problems on the boat, they'll be the first ones to know. Run your choices by Wallace so he can keep track of what we've got, and keep in mind that you aren't limited to just one contact each. Those of you who feel like becoming social butterflies should feel free to indulge yourselves, provided you stay within the aforementioned constraints." She gave Demarin a stern look, which he met with an innocent expression that was completely out of place on his face. "Laughlin, you've been here longer than the rest, so get with Wallace and go over who you think will be most likely to talk to us. All of you are to report anything you hear that might be important directly to one of your chiefs."

"Commander Sutton?" That was Jezek, who looked like she couldn't decide whether or not to raise her hand. Sophie gave her a nod and she continued, "What about the officers? They might be privy to things the enlisted personnel don't hear about."

"Commander Wolenczak and I have that covered."

"I served on _seaQuest _before her disappearance," Lucas added, knowing that any of them who weren't already aware of that would hear about it from the crew before the end of the day. "I'm well acquainted with most of the senior staff."

"Questions?"

There were none, which only meant that there was nothing anyone wanted to ask right now. Sophie expected Wallace and Jovasti would be fielding plenty of questions once she and Lucas were gone. Laughlin and Jezek would probably need an adjustment period before they were comfortable showing any uncertainty in front of their officers, and the rest were still getting back into the swing of things. That was another reason Sophie had gone out of her way to order them to make contacts aboard; it gave them a mission of sorts to carry out that would bolster their confidence without much risk. When it came time for their first real mission as a team, she wanted them to be secure in their ability to accomplish it successfully.

"Good. I'd advise you to get settled in, familiarize yourselves with the boat's layout, and turn in early. I'll see everyone in the sparring gym at 0700 tomorrow."

She looked over at Lucas, who smiled first at her and then at their newly returned teammates.

"Welcome back, Zeta Team," he said, the words heartfelt.


	41. Chapter 41

A/N: This one earns its T rating for language and violence. The story about the bar was lifted from an episode of the original La Femme Nikita series. There was never any debate about it; Michael was a true Level Three badass.

* * *

034. We are going now to a secret place we have, somewhat less than ten miles from here.

* * *

Zeta Team had been aboard _seaQuest _for three days, and they seemed to be settling in without much trouble. Jezek wasn't as good at hand to hand combat as the rest of the team, and Laughlin's two-mile run time was under par, but other than that, Sophie felt like the two of them were fitting in well and meeting the standards she'd set for the team. The others had clearly used their time back at headquarters to their advantage, and they all appeared to be back to their old selves. She was grateful that things with Zeta Team were going smoothly, because she had a different problem; one that she was trying to hide from the team and from Lucas, and which was starting to drive her crazy.

Jim Brody was _everywhere_.

He just happened to be walking by her quarters whenever she came out. His meal breaks were coincidentally at the same time as hers. If she went to the bridge or the cargo bay or practically anywhere else on the boat, it was guaranteed that she'd run into Brody in the corridor. The only place he didn't show up was in the sparring gym, and she got the feeling that was because when she was there, she was with her team. He was trying to catch her while she was alone, not while she was surrounded by subordinates.

She had to give him points for his recon skills; she didn't keep a regular schedule, and she intentionally varied the times of her breaks and the routes she took through the boat to avoid developing a pattern that might be predicted and used against her by an enemy. For him to catch her 'accidentally' so often, he'd either planted a tracker on her or he was using the boat's security system to monitor her movements. She suspected he was using the security system. That was merely a misuse of resources, and he could probably explain it away if he was forced to. Planting a tracker on an ISD operative, by contrast, was inexcusable and would result in his quick and messy death. Besides, she'd checked out all of her belongings, and nothing she wore or carried on a regular basis was emitting a signal suggesting it had been tagged.

Lucas hadn't said anything further about Brody after the night he'd caught the lieutenant in her quarters. He was sticking closer to her than usual, though, and between his hovering and Brody's constant ambushes, she was ready to scream. She hadn't even bothered asking to borrow his frequency scanner; she'd just lifted it from his lab in the morning, scanned her equipment, and returned it before he noticed it was missing. If she'd told him she was checking her stuff for bugs because she thought Brody might have put an electronic tracker on her, the hapless lieutenant would have been faced with a death much messier and not nearly as quick as the one Sophie would have supplied.

Her only solace was that this couldn't go on much longer. Either Brody would get tired of his fruitless pursuit and move on to someone else, or Lucas would catch him hitting on her again and put him through a wall. Or he'd finally cross the line of tolerable behavior and _Sophie_ would put him through a wall. It was mostly a question of which one would come first.

* * *

Lucas knocked on the door of the quarters that Wallace and Jovasti shared. He knew Jovasti wasn't there, had waited specifically until he knew that Jovasti was supposed to be meeting Jezek in the sparring gym. Of the two CPOs on Zeta Team, Wallace was far more likely to agree to Lucas's plan than Jovasti was.

His luck held; Wallace was there, and he invited Lucas in without hesitation.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"I wanted to give you a heads up about something."

"Oh? What's going on?"

"I invited the head of security to spar with us at practice tomorrow morning."

Wallace didn't find that particularly surprising. Back at ISD, Sutton had made their practices open to all comers, except for rare special occasions when she was teaching them some esoteric move that she didn't want everyone else to know. It gave the members of Zeta Team different opponents to practice against, exposing them to a range of fighting styles, and it also gave Sutton the opportunity to compare her people's skills to other teams'.

"Showing us off, sir?" he asked, humor creeping into his tone. He'd never admit it, but he was flattered that Wolenczak was proud enough of their team's abilities to want to show them off to his former crewmates on the _seaQuest_.

"Not exactly."

Wolenczak sounded far more serious than their team was accustomed to hearing him, and Wallace straightened a little in response, all joking forgotten.

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"Not exactly." Lucas paused for a long moment, choosing his words carefully. There were things that officers didn't say about other officers to enlisted personnel, and there were also things that no one could say to Sophie's people without it getting back to her. The two of them might technically share responsibility for Zeta Team, but Lucas had no illusions that, at heart, they were Sophie's people. "Lieutenant Brody is the head of security. He and I are old friends, Chief. He's a good guy, but when it comes to attitude, he has a lot in common with Demarin."

Wallace nodded, realizing that whatever the problem was, it probably stemmed from the lieutenant's ego. Most of the problems that Demarin caused were directly related to his cocksure attitude.

"Recently, he's become very interested in getting to know Commander Sutton."

_Now _the problem was obvious. This lieutenant had the hots for Sutton, and either didn't know or didn't care that she and Wolenczak were an item. Wallace guessed it was the former, because he had the shrewd suspicion that if Wolenczak thought his old buddy was intentionally trying to step on his toes, he would've already beaten the guy to a pulp. The commander's temper wasn't as volatile as Sutton's, but he tended to be touchy about several things, and his relationship with Sutton was one of them. Lieutenant Brody was lucky that Wolenczak hadn't cracked him across the jaw the first time he'd hit on Sutton. Actually, given that Sutton had to know how irritated Wolenczak would be by the lieutenant's advances…

"Has Commander Sutton broken his nose yet, sir?"

Wolenczak snorted. "Unfortunately, Chief, the same policy of diplomacy regarding the _seaQuest _crew that applies to Zeta Team also applies to us. We can't afford to alienate them."

Sutton and diplomacy didn't often end up in the same sentence, unless the phrase 'a total lack of' was also included. She was a strategist, though, so maybe the risks of punching Brody outweighed the benefits in her mind.

"I think the lieutenant is planning to take tomorrow as an opportunity to show Commander Sutton just how good he is," Lucas added. Brody had been thrilled by the invitation, clearly convinced that Lucas was giving him the opening he needed to finally impress Sophie.

"Oh, we'll make sure she sees exactly how he measures up to us," Wallace promised. "Sutton doesn't know you're here, does she?"

"She'll kill me when she finds out I told you this," he replied frankly. "I'm hoping it'll be worth it."

"If I have anything to say about it, it will be."

* * *

Wolenczak had procured three sets of quarters for them down in the old science section, not far from his lab or Sutton's quarters. The two chiefs shared one room, and the rest of the team was split up by gender into the other two rooms. A quick discussion when they'd first moved in had designated the guys' room as the communal hangout area, so Wallace was pretty sure he'd find most of the team there.

Sure enough, he found everyone except Jovasti, Jezek, and Graham shooting the breeze in the guys' quarters. Most of them were playing poker, but Hallifeld was sprawled across one of the bunks with a novel and Kelson appeared to finally be unpacking his stuff. They didn't drop what they were doing and jump to their feet the way they would have if Wolenczak or Sutton had shown up unannounced, but they did pause as they greeted him, waiting to see whether he was just there to socialize or if something was wrong.

"We have a situation," he told them.

The poker players all set down their cards. Kelson put the stack of minidiscs he was holding down on the desk, and Hallifeld closed her book. Just like that, he had their undivided attention.

"Urgency?"

"Non-urgent, so you can all relax," Wallace replied. "This is an in-house issue. It was brought to my attention by Commander Wolenczak, and we will not be discussing it with Commander Sutton."

That drew a few murmurs and startled looks. An in-house issue was a problem with one of their own people, which typically meant it would be dealt with by Sutton. Not telling Sutton meant that it had to be about her.

"We aren't accustomed to working with people outside of our division, so this sort of thing comes up rarely. Commander Sutton has a…a small conflict with the head of security aboard the boat."

"Is he still alive?" Demarin muttered, just loudly enough for Hallifeld to hear him without his words reaching the chief's ears. He had a point; Sutton wasn't known for peaceful conflict resolution.

"Why did Wolenczak bring this to you, Chief?" Lightman sounded puzzled. "Why wouldn't Sutton tell us herself?"

"Why would she tell us at all?" Kennedy added. "Commander Sutton has never had any trouble solving her own problems. Unless she needs bail or an alibi -"

"I'd be happy to tell you if you'd stop asking questions long enough for me to get a word in edgewise," Wallace informed them, and they fell obediently silent again. "Thank you. Lieutenant Brody, the head of security, seems to have developed an attraction to Commander Sutton, and according to Wolenczak he's notoriously hard to discourage."

"That _is _a problem we don't have very often," Martinez said, exchanging glances with Hallifeld. Sexual harassment was practically nonexistent in ISD. All of their personnel, male and female alike, were trained in ruthless hand to hand combat. Anyone making an unwanted advance was likely to end up in Medbay nursing a couple of broken bones.

"Why didn't she just break his nose?" Kelson asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind. "That usually works for her."

"Apparently, we aren't the only ones who are supposed to be playing nice with the _seaQuest _crew."

"So she's just supposed to let this guy come on to her?" Demarin sounded incensed, which Wallace found supremely ironic given how much of a womanizer Demarin was. "How far does diplomacy go, Chief? How much is he allowed to get away with before she gets to fight back?"

"This is why I hate politics." Shaw's normally pale cheeks were flushed with anger, a double handful of freckles standing out against the ruddy color. "Things are easier when you can just shoot the bastards."

"Let's not get carried away," Wallace interrupted, a little alarmed at the vehemence of their response. "You know as well as I do that if the lieutenant had actually laid a hand on her, he'd be dead."

"Not if she had orders to _play nicely_," Demarin fired back, and Kennedy snickered.

"I don't think he was talking about Sutton," he pointed out, and Hallifeld nodded in agreement.

"Wolenczak would've dismembered him," she said, her tone implying Demarin was an idiot for not seeing that. "It doesn't matter what their orders are. If this guy touched Sutton, Wolenczak would kill him, and to hell with the consequences."

That seemed to mollify them a little, probably because it was true. Where Sutton was concerned, Wolenczak was almost obsessively protective. Wallace couldn't imagine that had improved any after she'd nearly been killed by the Macs and then had to fake her own death to rescue their team, leaving Wolenczak alone to worry about her for months.

"The whole point of me telling you this is that Lieutenant Brody is planning on attending our sparring practice in the morning." With that, Wallace had their attention again, six pairs of eyes riveted to him. "Wolenczak thinks he'll try and impress Sutton by showing us up. We're going to take the opportunity to teach him a little lesson. Laughlin, Sutton will probably spend the whole practice just sparring with you and Jezek again, since you're new to the team. Any of the rest of us might end up sparring with Lieutenant Brody, so be prepared."

"Does he know we're the best?" Lightman asked, only half joking. "Even if he was just coming to get in some honest sparring practice, we'd kick his ass."

"Yeah, and now that we know why he's coming, we're _really _going to kick his ass," Kelson added darkly.

"Have all of you always been this bloody-minded?" Wallace demanded, ignoring the immediate chorus of 'yes' and 'always' from around the room. "Hear this loud and clear, people: you do not have permission to kill or maim the lieutenant. We're just going to make a point."

There was some grumbling at that, but it died down quickly.

"I'll take what I can get," Demarin declared.

"I've heard that about you," Martinez shot back, and there was a brief spate of laughter from the team mingled with an outraged cry from Hallifeld as Demarin grabbed the paperback book out of her hands and threw it at Martinez. That earned him a smack from Hallifeld. Meanwhile, Martinez tried to toss the book back without damaging it and ended up hitting Kelson with it, who pulled the pillow out from behind Shaw's head and smacked her with it in retaliation. Wallace shook his head as the discussion devolved into chaos, and edged out the door. He'd made his point; there was no reason he had to stay and watch them engage in the nonsense they got up to when they had too much free time on their hands.

* * *

"Hey, Jim. How was your…" Ford, who'd started to take a seat across the table from Brody, froze in mid-sit when the lieutenant looked up. "What the hell happened to your face?"

"What, this?" Brody put a hand up to his face, stopping himself just before his fingers would have touched the throbbing black eye that reached from the side of his nose halfway out to his hairline. Touching it made it hurt worse, if that was even possible. "Nothing. Sparring practice."

"With who, King Kong?" Ford demanded. "You look like somebody hit you with a sledgehammer!"

"A bunch of somebodies," Brody corrected him. At least Ford couldn't see the multitude of bruises hidden beneath the fabric of his uniform, which made it a little less embarrassing. "I went to the ISD team's sparring practice this morning."

Ford made a mental note not to accept any invitations to spar with Sutton's team. He'd actually considered it, since he hadn't had much practice lately, but one look at Brody's face was enough to convince him that he needed to find a different way to occupy his free time.

"Do the other guys look that bad?"

Embarrassingly enough, they didn't. He'd barely been able to land any punches at all on his opponents. It was frustrating because he _knew _he was a good fighter. They were just - better. Faster. And to add insult to painful injury, the black eye had been courtesy of one of the women. It was bad enough to get beaten up, but to get beaten up by a girl was twice as bad.

At least he hadn't had to fight Sutton. In between matches, when he'd been trying to catch his breath and telling himself that he was _not _allowed to throw up while the whole ISD team was there to see it, he'd watched Sutton spar with two of the other women on her team. They'd been paired up against her, two on one, and either of them alone would have been a decent opponent for him. Sutton had wiped the floor with both of them simultaneously. Not just once, either; she'd slammed both of them into the mats over and over, for the entire two hour practice, and at the end of it she still didn't have a mark on her. If he'd had to fight against Sutton, he had no illusions about his chances of winning.

Maybe it was a good thing she didn't seem to be attracted to him. He wasn't sure he was comfortable dating a woman who could kick his ass.

"Jim?" Ford waved a hand in front of his face. "Are you going to pass out on me? Maybe you should be in Sickbay. You might have a concussion or something."

"I'm fine, Commander," he said in his best nonchalant tone.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should skip the next sparring practice they hold. I don't know how we'd find a new head of security on such short notice."

"It wasn't like they could have done any real damage," Brody scoffed, and hoped the lie wasn't too obvious. They'd made it clear with their fighting styles, with the punches they barely pulled and the kicks that landed with enough force to leave impressive bruises behind, that they could have beaten him to a pulp if they'd wanted to. "I was just, you know, teaching them some new hand-to-hand techniques."

"From where I was standing, they looked more like face-to-floor techniques." Both men looked up to find Sophie standing beside their table, and she offered them a smile. "Mind if I join you?"

"Have a seat, Sophie," Ford replied, standing and pulling out the chair next to his for her before taking his seat again. Her smile widened at that bit of automatic politeness that was so rare to see nowadays. "I heard your team had an eventful day with Lieutenant Brody as their punching bag."

"You know how it is," she said with a shrug. "They get a new playmate and they get a little carried away. If more of your people were willing to spar with them, they might not get quite so excited every time they see a new person on the mats. Thanks, Jon," she added as he handed her the salt and pepper shakers from his side of the table, then looked up to find Brody watching her. "What's wrong, Lieutenant?"

Brody was gaping at them, all of the residual cockiness gone from his expression.

"You…you call him Jon?"

Sophie gave Brody a puzzled look. "I'm pretty sure that's his name."

He shook his head suddenly, getting out of his seat. "I have to, uh," Brody began, found himself unable to come up with a decent excuse to leave, and simply took off without further explanation.

Ford looked over at Sophie, frowning. "Do you think they hit him hard enough to give him a concussion? Because he's acting a little strange."

"Really? I don't notice much difference." She glanced over at his tray. "Hey, where were the cookies? I didn't see any."

"They run out fast," he explained, offering her the little plate. "Want one?"

"You don't have to ask me twice."

* * *

On the other side of the mess hall, Demarin and Kennedy were entertaining several of the _seaQuest _personnel with only slightly embellished tales of their exploits with ISD. By the time they finished telling the story about Graham blowing up a Macronesian ammo bunker, an explosion that left the Macs with a gigantic crater where they used to have a munitions depot, their audience was thoroughly impressed.

"And then Graham tells the Mac officer, 'We are going now to a secret place we have, somewhat less than ten miles from here.' What he doesn't know is that the secret place is their own bunker, which Graham tricks the guy into helping him break into in the middle of the night. From there?" Demarin shrugged. "It was only a matter of hooking up the C4 and then getting the hell out before the building blew. That's Graham's specialty."

"But Lucas doesn't do that stuff, right?" That question came from Ortiz, who must have been one of the crew members who'd known Wolenczak before the commander had joined the Navy or he wouldn't have been calling him 'Lucas'. "I mean, he's a hacker, not a spy."

Kennedy and Demarin exchanged sharp looks. This was something Sutton would have to hear about, assuming she didn't already know. If the _seaQuest _crew underestimated Wolenczak, if they were still letting their experiences of him from a decade ago color their opinion of who he was now, then it could become a real problem.

"Think about it this way, Chief," Kennedy told Ortiz, holding up a hand to count off the different divisions on his fingers. "Special ops is unofficially divided into three personnel levels. First, you've got your regular-grade badasses."

"Your Lieutenant Brody falls into that category," Demarin admitted. Brody hadn't exactly made an impressive showing of it that morning, but he'd survived the beating they'd given him and kept coming back for more, not ducking out before the sparring session was over. That alone probably earned him a 'badass' rating.

"Then you've got the second level, the above-and-beyond badasses. Everyone on our team falls there, or they wouldn't have made the team in the first place."

It wasn't bravado, just plain fact. Miguel looked over at Tony and the guys from security, then back at Kennedy.

"Okay, so what's the third category?"

"Extreme badass," Demarin replied, smug. "Commander Sutton is definitely a Level Three."

"So is Captain Sanati," Kennedy added. "If you believe the Section Seven operatives, she's done some pretty mind-blowing stuff."

"If I believed the Section Seven operatives, I'd have sunk my life savings into buying swampland in Arizona a long time ago," Demarin retorted, drawing a laugh from Piccolo. "But she and Sutton are friends, so at least some of it is probably true."

"Wait, wait. Why is Sutton a Level Three if Brody is only Level One?" Piccolo looked over to the security personnel for support. "Brody's a pretty badass dude."

Demarin snorted. "Has Brody ever ripped out a guy's carotid with his teeth?" Horrified silence met his question, and he nodded. "Didn't think so."

"Sutton wouldn't have done it if her hands had been free," Kennedy pointed out.

"She wouldn't have needed to do it if her hands were free, Kennedy. She would've just snapped his neck."

"Yeah, but instead she turned him into a human paint sprayer."

"Only for about two minutes," Demarin observed. "He'd bled out by the time we got there. All over the freaking room, of course. It had white walls, which made for a really striking contrast."

"We only had to see the aftermath," Kennedy explained to the still-stunned _seaQuest _crew. "Chief Wallace was taken captive with her. He saw the whole thing in technicolor."

"I wouldn't bring it up with him," Demarin cautioned them. "He really doesn't like to talk about it."

"The Macs call her the 'Blood Countess'. You know, like the Hungarian mass murderer who used to take baths in the blood of her victims?"

"I definitely wouldn't bring _that _up with Sutton."

"She doesn't like it?" Piccolo hazarded, and Demarin snickered.

"Well, she doesn't dislike it any more than she dislikes the other things they call her." He grinned. "Like the 'Chameleon of Death', because she's always done most of her undercover work in disguise. Or the 'Rockhampton Ripper' - she really hates that one."

"In all fairness, she did kill a whole lot of people in Rockhampton. There was a Mac base there once," Kennedy added, for their audience's benefit. "That was before Sutton got there."

It took the _seaQuest_ crew members a minute to process all of that, but eventually Ortiz shook his head.

"That still doesn't explain how Lucas ended up on your team. I mean, you said that all of your people are hardcore commandos. He definitely isn't."

"He probably _wasn't_, ten years ago," Demarin corrected him. "People change. Explaining the levels was just so you'd understand our dilemma. Our team is always divided about where Commander Wolenczak falls."

"Divided between - what?" Miguel asked, puzzled. "'Regular badass' or 'regular guy'?"

Demarin and Kennedy snorted in unison, sharing an amused look.

"Between Level Two and Level Three. You really have no idea what he does now, do you?" Kennedy frowned, trying to come up with a story about Wolenczak in the field that wasn't classified. "There was this one time with this guy who…no, I think that ended up classified. There was that time…"

"That thing in that one place was definitely Level Three."

"That _thing _is classified, Demarin."

"That's why I didn't say it."

Kennedy rolled his eyes, racking his brain for another example. "What about that time in the bar? You were there for that."

"I was there in person," Demarin agreed. "Undercover, as a bartender. You were - where were you?"

"I was supposed to be the bouncer, so I was outside."

"Right. Bouncer." Demarin thought for a minute, but he couldn't remember that little episode ever being classified. "We can probably tell that one. Everyone who was involved is dead, except for our team."

"As long as we don't use their real names," Kennedy decided, and Demarin shrugged. "Okay. We were trying to catch a guy who was selling UEO secrets to the Macs. This guy…uh, we'll call him Mr. A."

"Mr. A was a freak," Demarin interrupted. "He owned this nightclub; used it as a front for money laundering. The place was normal enough, but he had this room in the back, and he'd pick the best looking women in the club and take them back there. Some of them came out alive, and some of them came out in itsy bitsy pieces. He had this thing for knives. Anyway, we needed to get into the club because we had intel that he was making his handoffs to his Mac contact there, and -"

"Skip the setup of the operation," Kennedy advised. That had been three weeks of painstaking undercover work, getting them all into their positions in the club. "Just tell them about the night of the sting."

"You wanna tell the story?" Demarin fired back, and Kennedy shrugged, ceding the point. Demarin had actually been there for the whole thing, and he was the better story-teller anyway. "All right, then. We're in the club, half of us working there undercover and the other half pretending to be customers. The problem is, no one can get into this back room unless Mr. A is there, because he has the only key and it's got a ridiculously high-tech security system that made the one at ISD headquarters look like a run of the mill privacy fence. We needed him to let us in, and the only people who got to go back there with him were his Macronesian contact, the women, and occasionally one of the bartenders.

"Sutton made herself the bait because she was this guy's type and because, of all the women on the team, if it came down to a fight she was the one most likely to get out of there alive. Mr. A has one of his Mac contacts at the club that night, and we know he's going to sell him some more UEO intel. We have to get the discs that the intel is on, but we don't know where he's keeping them. He takes his contact to the back room. Sutton gets herself picked to go to the back room with them, and I go along to supply their drinks." Demarin sighed. "I wanted to drug the drinks, but we needed them to actually make the intel exchange before we could take them down so we'd know where the discs were. Sutton and I planted a couple of video bugs in the room once we got back there, in case they kicked us out again before they made the deal.

"Mr. A and his contact are talking, and for a minute it looks like they're going to make the deal. And then Mr. A pulls out a knife and says they need to celebrate, and he turns it on Sutton." He paused in his recitation, reliving the awful moment when he'd realized that things had just gone to hell. No one who hadn't been through something like that could really know how it felt, that split second when they knew that something terrible was going to happen to one of their own and there was nothing they could do about it. When he spoke again, that helpless fury was audible in his voice. "I was standing behind the bar. By the time he had the knife to her neck, my gun was in my hand. All she had to do was give me the signal and I could've shot them both, but she didn't."

"He was going to kill her," Ortiz said slowly. "Why wouldn't she call off the mission?"

"She wanted the discs." At Ortiz's expression, Demarin shrugged. "You don't understand because you don't know Sutton that well. If you did, you'd get it. I wasn't happy about it, though. That's probably the closest I've ever come to disobeying orders. I wanted to shoot that son of a bitch so badly that my trigger finger was twitching."

"Wolenczak had a visual of the room through one of the bugs she'd planted," Kennedy said, giving Demarin a moment to pull himself together. "We all had earbuds in so we could hear him; he was coordinating the mission from outside. He told us to hold position, so we did."

"I was about to shoot Mr. A anyway, and screw the intel we were trying to recover, and then suddenly Wolenczak is there with this pissed off look on his face. He's yelling, and it takes me a minute to realize that he's not yelling at the bad guys, he's yelling at Sutton." Demarin shook his head. "Man, I can still remember verbatim what he said to her. I couldn't believe anybody would have the balls to do it."

"Basically," Kennedy interrupted, not wanting to hear the word-for-word version of this part again, "he called Sutton a dirty whore."

"Let me get this straight." Piccolo seemed almost beside himself with astonished glee. "Luke told the woman who tore out some guy's throat with her _teeth _that she was a dirty whore? While some other guy was holding her at knifepoint?"

"I can't picture him saying that to anyone." Ortiz was in shock. He literally couldn't picture Lucas ever using that kind of language, especially on Commander Sutton. "I mean, Lucas wouldn't…he really said that?"

"And then he backhanded her," Demarin agreed. "Smacked her right across the face. It knocked her away from Mr. A and into the wall. I couldn't figure out what the hell he was doing, except maybe trying to get their attention on him long enough for her to get out. Mr. A puts the knife away and pulls out a gun, puts it to Wolenczak's head and says, 'Is there something I can do for you?' And Wolenczak, cool as freaking ice even with the barrel of an SSA-3 against his temple, says, 'Did she tell you she's pregnant?' Mr. A stares at him for a minute, like he hasn't decided whether or not to pull the trigger, and Wolenczak sticks his finger in the guy's face, all outraged, and says, 'You want some advice, buddy? Never get married. Women are more trouble than they're worth.'

"Then he turns his back on Mr. A, gun and all, grabs Sutton by the wrist, yanks her to her feet and drags her right out of the club. She's clued into what he's doing by now, so she's crying and apologizing and telling him she won't ever cheat on him again. The two of them should've gotten matching Emmys for the overdramatic soap opera acting they did that night. Mr. A and his Mac buddy nearly died laughing; they thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen, this woman's husband having to chase her down and drag her home. Mr. A didn't even bother to send his guards after them. They got out clean."

"Twenty minutes later, the bad guys made the deal, and we watched it all on the bug Sutton left behind," Kennedy concluded, earning a dirty look from Demarin for interrupting yet again. "We…arrested them…later that night. The Mac operative had the minidiscs on him, and we recovered them all."

It was obvious that by 'arrested' he meant 'killed', but no one called him on it. Their audience was too busy trying to picture the Lucas they knew in that scenario.

"When we got back to HQ, Wolenczak updated the security system there to include some of the tech from the back room at the club. He's made his own improvements since then, too. No one's been able to crack it yet," Demarin added thoughtfully.

"And if him saving Sutton's life without compromising our mission isn't badass enough for you, there's always the grenade," Kennedy said. "Although you already know that story."

Piccolo and Ortiz exchanged looks with the security personnel. "What story?"

"What story?" Demarin repeated slowly. "You mean you don't know about the grenade?"

"Didn't you ever wonder how he got that scar?" Kennedy added, pointing to his own temple.

"Well, sure, I wondered," Piccolo replied, his tone heavy with scorn. "But I wasn't gonna _ask_. Maybe you haven't noticed, but he's kinda cranky about that sort of thing."

"He was shielding Sutton from a frag grenade," Demarin told them. "He got hit with shrapnel. She was lining up a shot…how do you not know this story? Seriously. I thought everyone knew."

The _seaQuest _crew exchanged glanced again, and Ortiz was the one who finally spoke.

"I guess we don't know him as well as we used to."

* * *

Ben Krieg was doing inventory in one of the storerooms near the mess hall when Jim Brody came storming in, so angry that he practically had steam coming out of his ears.

"Whoa, Jim. What's wrong?" He hesitated, getting a good look at the other man. "And what happened to your face?"

"I don't believe him!" Brody snapped, ignoring Ben's question about his face. He'd answered that one enough times today.

"Who?"

"Ford!" Brody threw his arms out to the side, gesturing expressively. "That sneaky bastard! And to think that all this time I believed his conservative, uptight stuffed shirt routine!"

"I'm pretty sure it's not a routine," Ben said with an appreciative snicker for Brody's evocative word choice. "If you look up 'conservative, uptight stuffed shirt' in the dictionary, you'll see Ford's picture."

"Apparently not, Krieg, because I've spent almost a week chasing that woman all over the boat without getting so much as a damned smile from her, and now I find out that Ford's been making time with her behind my back!"

Ben froze, putting down his clipboard. This conversation had just become way more interesting than his inventory.

"Jim. Jim. _Jim_!"

Brody spun around to face Ben, visibly frustrated.

"What?"

"Ford has a _girlfriend_?" Ben was nearly apoplectic. He couldn't imagine how a piece of gossip of this magnitude could have slipped past him. "For the love of all that's holy, Jim, you've gotta tell me who."

"Why not?" Brody replied glumly. "It's going to be all over the boat by tomorrow anyway. Everyone's going to know that Sutton picked him over me. Me! Jim Brody!" Brody shook his head, genuinely baffled. "I just don't get it, Ben. What could he possibly have that I don't?"

"Sutton? Are you sure?" Krieg's voice was unusually strained, but Brody didn't notice, still deep in the throes of self-pity.

"She calls him 'Jon'. They're in there having dinner together right now. He even pulled out her chair for her!"

"…and?"

"And what?" Brody demanded. "Krieg, she wouldn't call me 'Jim' if it was a direct order from the Secretary General. All I get is 'Lieutenant' this or 'Brody' that. No, they're definitely sleeping together."

"Because she calls him by his name?" Ben shook his head, amused now that he knew Brody hadn't caught Sutton and Ford in a romantic clinch or something equally compromising. "Jim, I don't care what you think you saw. Sutton isn't sleeping with Ford. They're just friends."

"Hey, I didn't want to believe it either, but there it was. Right in front of me." Brody sighed. "Listen, Ben, I'm just - I'm gonna go to bed."

Ben frowned, trying to remember the last time he'd heard the usually irrepressible Brody sound so disheartened.

"You sure? I can grab a couple of guys, put together a poker game -"

"Nah. Thanks, but I'm not really in the mood." Brody headed for the door, muttering something rude under his breath about women and senior officers. Ben watched him go, feeling a dawning sense of dread as he realized that, unless he wanted an outraged XO on his hands once Brody's theory hit the rumor mill, he was going to have to give Ford and Sutton a heads up.

* * *

"You are in so much trouble."

Lucas sighed, setting down the discs he'd ducked into his lab to get. He'd hoped to grab them and go, to avoid running into Sophie in the one place on the boat where she was guaranteed to have the privacy she needed to eviscerate him. She must have been staked out here waiting for him.

"What kind of trouble am I in?" he asked, trying to play dumb, but one look at his partner convinced him that it wasn't going to work.

"I told you to stay out of this thing with Brody!" she snapped, poking him in the chest and nearly putting a hole in his sternum with the amount of force behind her finger. "Instead, you set him up, and you used Zeta Team to do it. Did you think I wouldn't figure it out?"

"No. I knew you'd know what I'd done as soon as he showed up to practice."

"And did you really think I'd be okay with it?"

"Nope." She'd backed him up to the wall, and now he leaned against it. "I told Wallace you'd kill me when you realized I'd used them to get back at Brody."

"Then why would you do it?"

"Because it was worth it." Lucas smiled, recalling exactly how good it had felt to watch Hallifeld slam the heel of her foot into Brody's face, knocking his smug smile right off. He'd gone into that first fight thinking that Hallifeld would be an easy opponent because she was female and unintimidating, which was the quickest way to piss her off. It was lucky for him that they'd been sparring barefoot, or he would've had a broken nose and a fractured orbit to go with the spectacular black eye she'd given him. "I don't care how angry you are with me, Sophie. You weren't doing anything about him, so I did."

"That was my decision to make! You went behind my back and you involved the team in my business! You didn't have any right to do that!"

"I won't apologize for doing what needed to be done," he fired back, using her own words from their last argument against her. She rocked back as though he'd hit her, her eyes flashing with fury.

"What if I told you that I can't afford to have a partner I can't trust, and I won't have a lover who doesn't trust me?"

Lucas froze, all of his righteous anger draining away in the face of the bomb she'd just dropped on him.

"You don't mean that."

"Are you sure?"

"Sophie, you don't mean that. You can't."

She swallowed the sharp retort she'd been about to voice, his expression giving her pause. She'd just been trying to get under his skin, to make him understand how betrayed she was feeling. She hadn't meant to provoke the kind of raw terror that was now written all over his face.

"Lucas," she murmured, the argument forgotten for the moment as she pulled him into her embrace. He was rigid and tense under her hands, practically vibrating with fear. It seemed to take him a minute to realize she was hugging him, and then his arms slid around her waist. "God, Lucas, what's wrong?"

He took a deep breath, his face buried in her hair. It took him a moment to pull himself together enough to answer her.

"Please just tell me that you aren't going to leave me." His voice caught on the words. "Please, Sophie."

"I'm not going to leave you," she promised, tightening her grip on him. "Lucas, where is this coming from? I don't think I've ever seen you this upset."

Lucas closed his eyes, concentrating on the warmth of her body against his. She was still there, still in his arms. He hadn't lost her.

"Do you remember the night that we made our deal? The conditions that we agreed on?"

"Of course," she replied, frowning. "Lucas -"

"The night that you gave me the truth serum, I told you that I asked you to marry me because I couldn't be alone again." He sighed heavily. "I barely knew you then, Sophie, but I knew that if I got close to you and started caring about you, I wouldn't survive losing you. I'd lost too much already."

She knew that. She'd known it from the beginning, but over the years she'd done a pretty good job of avoiding it. She wasn't comfortable with this sort of thing, consciously shying away from any discussion about their feelings for each other.

"That was before I fell in love with you. It's so much worse now, the idea of losing you. I know that we're at war and we do dangerous jobs and you could be killed. I live with that every day, Sophie. It eats away at me. At least I know that if somebody tries to take you from me, I can stop them. If Lowry tried to split us up, I'd figure out a way around him. If you got captured by the Macs, I'd get you back. I'd do whatever it took to get you back. Nothing but death can take you away from me, Sophie." He swallowed hard. "But if you decide that you _want_ to leave me…that, I can't fight. I'd never try to make you stay if you decided you didn't want to be with me anymore. I love you too much to do that."

"So this thing with Brody -"

"I'm sorry, Sophie. I really am. I know I overreacted. I just couldn't stand the thought that he might come between us."

It was Sophie's turn to take a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say.

"I love you, Lucas."

His expression of stunned joy would have been funny if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"I know I haven't said it before," she added, resting her forehead against his chest as she closed her eyes to keep her tears at bay. She was absolutely not going to cry. "Maybe I should have. Maybe you needed to hear it. I never wanted you to feel insecure about our relationship or think that I didn't care about you. I just - I'm not any good at this, Lucas. I've never been in a relationship before. Not like this, anyway."

"I love you, Sophie," he murmured. He knew that she hated to talk about this sort of thing. That was the reason he'd never pushed her to tell him how she felt. He knew that she loved him, even if she'd never been able to say it, and he'd thought that was enough for him. Now that she'd actually said it, though, he couldn't deny that hearing the words helped to soothe the scared and wounded parts of him that he'd spent his whole life trying to hide.

"You have to stop this," she told him wearily. "I mean it, Lucas. If you love me, you have to _trust _me. Don't go behind my back again."

"Never again. I promise."

"Never again. Even if every guy in the UEO starts hitting on me, you're going to stay out of it. Right?"

"Absolutely," he declared firmly. "No matter what happens, I swear I won't get involved unless you want me to."

"Good," she sighed. "Because you ruined my plans for Brody."

"Wait. You had plans for Brody?"

"Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" She tilted her head up, stealing a quick kiss before pulling away from him. "You interfered before I could put them in motion."

"No, wait," he called, frustrated, as she headed for the door. His plan had been adequate, but she was a brilliant tactician. Her plans were always intricate and wonderfully devious. "What were you going to do to him? Sophie!"

Her cryptic smile was the only response he got as the door swung shut behind her.

* * *

Ben caught Sutton and Ford the next morning at breakfast and pulled them aside to tell them about the rumor that was already circulating about the two of them. Ford was furious, as he'd expected, and demanded to know who Ben had heard it from. Remembering how downtrodden Brody had looked, Ben covered for him, saying only that he'd heard it through the rumor mill.

Sutton, strangely enough, found the whole thing hysterical. When Ben worked up the courage to ask her why she found it so funny, she gave him an answer he didn't quite understand; something about a lobster getting its tail caught in its own trap. He couldn't guess what she meant by it, although he was increasingly amused by her lobster obsession. He was just glad that she hadn't been angry. He wouldn't put it past her to shoot the messenger, especially now that he'd heard a couple of the stories that her people had told Miguel. Those made her sound like the kind of woman who would shoot the messenger, the messenger's boss, and all of the messenger's coworkers, and then blow up the messenger service's office for good measure.

He hoped that Lucas would find it as amusing as she did. The rumors circulating this morning about him and the things he'd done in ISD, combined with the fact that the kid had always struck him as the jealous type, made him worry a little about what might happen to Ford if Lucas thought that the commander was pursuing his girlfriend. In the old days, the worst Lucas might have done would be to change all of Ford's passwords or erase the hard drive on his personal computer. Just like everything else in the world, however, that had changed during the decade they'd lost, and Lucas definitely wasn't that same kid anymore.


	42. Chapter 42

A/N: This is the longest chapter so far, and will hopefully be the longest one of the whole bunch. I can't believe there are only eight prompts left!

* * *

041. It's not always a misfortune being overlooked.

* * *

"Bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, down by two runs…" Lucas grinned at Tim O'Neill. "I can't believe Larkin hit it out of the park."

"It was pretty much the best game ever," Tim agreed. The two of them were walking back to the marina from the waterfront stadium in Yokohama, wearing Marlins jerseys and recapping the baseball game they'd just attended. The Marlins had beaten the Bay Stars in one of the closest games either had them had ever seen, and the win was exhilarating for two die-hard Marlins fans like them.

"It looks like the Marlins have a shot at the Series this year," Lucas said, finishing the last of his popcorn and tossing the empty box in a nearby trash can as they approached the part of the marina where the launch back to _seaQuest _was waiting.

He'd been really looking forward to this shore leave. Bridger had informed the crew of the upcoming leave several weeks ago, just after the rumor mill had sunk its teeth into the idea that Ford and Sophie were carrying on a secret affair. This afternoon had given Lucas a chance to get off the boat and away from the seemingly endless gossip, which grated on his last nerve. He knew how Sophie felt about him, and he knew that the rumors were ridiculous, but he was still having trouble stifling his irrational jealousy when he overheard people talking about it. He was fervently hoping that someone on the crew would do something gossip-worthy while on leave, giving the rumormongers something new to talk about.

"Even if they make the World Series, I don't think that game could be any more exciting than this one was. I really appreciate you inviting me, Lucas."

"Hey, thanks for coming," Lucas said, grinning again. "You're currently Sophie's favorite member of the crew, since you coming with me to the game meant that she didn't have to." Tim knew about Lucas and Sophie's relationship, of course, courtesy of the psychic pulse. Lately, Lucas had been grateful for that, since it meant that the people who'd been affected by the pulse didn't put much stock in the rumors about Sophie and Ford.

"I thought she said that one of you needed to be aboard the boat while we're in port."

Lucas snorted. "Who do you think came up with that rule? It mysteriously became part of our policy after I got tickets to this game. She'll probably lift it once baseball season is over."

"She's not worried you'll drag her to any football games in the fall?"

"A bunch of guys beating the crap out of each other while they try to out-strategize the other team?" He shook his head ruefully. "I'm more worried about her dragging me there."

"I just don't get people who like football better than baseball," Tim said, checking his watch. While _seaQuest _was technically in port, the boat was too big to dock at the marina, so launches were cycling from the boat to the marina and back to allow the crew to take advantage of their liberty. Most of the senior staff was taking their shore leave in staggered shifts; Tim had to be back in under an hour to take his shift on the bridge.

Lucas and Sophie were simply taking turns, one of them aboard while the other was ashore. Tim had wondered why they'd set it up like that, since it meant it would be impossible for the two of them to go ashore and spend time together off the boat, but apparently Sophie's dislike for baseball was the motivating factor.

"Me either. And knowing Sophie, you'd think that hockey would be her favorite sport, but she gets frustrated when they penalize the enforcers for what she calls 'just doing their jobs'."

* * *

Tim and Lucas disembarked from the shuttle and onto the _seaQuest_, still discussing the finer points of the Marlins' starting lineup. They left the launch bay and were halfway down the corridor before they were spotted.

"Hey, guys."

Sophie, who'd been headed toward the launch bay, detoured to join them, and Tim did a double take. Sophie Sutton was attractive even in uniform, but tonight, wearing tight jeans and a low-cut black top, she was stunning.

"Sophie," Lucas greeted her, his gaze openly appreciative. "Nice outfit."

"Thanks." They exchanged a heated look and Tim felt himself starting to blush. It was different to see them together like this, out of uniform and without the veneer of professionalism they employed while on duty. "How was your game?"

"It was fantastic," Lucas said with genuine enthusiasm. "I'd give you the play by play if I thought you had any interest in hearing it."

"Thanks for sparing me," she acknowledged, amused. "Things have been quiet here. No problems to sign out to you."

"None of our people have been arrested yet?"

Sophie laughed. "If they have, they were smart enough not to call me looking for bail. I made sure they were clear on the port rules before they left, so I don't want to hear about it if they do get arrested."

"Are you sure_ you're_ clear on the rules?" Lucas asked, giving her a knowing look. "One of those rules says something about 'no personal weapons allowed inside the city limits'…"

"Ridiculous," she replied, rolling her eyes. "If the _Dauntless _weren't in port, I probably wouldn't even be going ashore. As it is, I'm going to be edgy the whole time without even a boot knife."

"I'm sure you and Captain Sanati will have a good time. God knows the two of you can cause enough damage unarmed."

"That would be telling," she murmured with a sidelong glance at O'Neill, who blushed again to be caught listening to what was quickly becoming a private conversation. "Anyway, I'm headed for the launch, so -"

"Commander!"

They all turned to find Kennedy approaching them at a jog.

"Commanders," he modified his greeting as he reached them. "Lieutenant. Commander Sutton, could I borrow you for a minute?"

"Not if it's to supply someone with bail."

"Ma'am?"

"Never mind," Sophie said, guiding Kennedy away from the other two. "Come on. You can walk me to the launch."

"Thanks, ma'am. Lieutenant," Kennedy acknowledged as Sutton drew him away. "Commander Wolenczak, I'll see you later?"

"I'll meet you on the bridge at 2100," Wolenczak replied. He was planning to use the boat's downtime to repair a glitch in the WSKRS system that Ortiz had been complaining about, and Kennedy had expressed an interest in giving him a hand.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Kennedy's issue, involving a scheduling conflict with some of the security personnel about whose turn it was to use the sparring gym, was easily sorted out. It wasn't usually the sort of thing her people would bother her with, but Zeta Team wasn't accustomed to sitting idle for long periods of time, which they were doing a fair amount of now that they were based aboard _seaQuest_. Tensions were running high. She hoped that giving them shore leave while the boat was in port would help. They were kept to the same restrictions she'd placed on herself and Wolenczak; half of the team remained aboard the boat at all times while the other half was ashore. She knew Lucas thought she was just trying to get out of the baseball game, but it was also a prudent decision. Even if something went wrong in port, half of the team and one commanding officer would still be in position on _seaQuest_. Which reminded her…

"Shouldn't you be ashore tonight, Kennedy?"

"I traded slots with Demarin for tomorrow. Wolenczak is going to walk me through the repairs on the sensor station tonight."

"Good," she said, pleased. She liked it when her people went out of their way to learn new skills, and she wholeheartedly approved of them spending time with Wolenczak. She knew how much they respected him, but most of the work he did was over their heads, and as a consequence of that they tended to gravitate toward her. She was a known quantity in a way that he simply wasn't.

She and Kennedy had reached the launch bay, and the one-minute warning tone sounded then, letting them know that the launch to the marina was about to depart.

"I have to go," she told him. "I'll see you - oh, damn!"

"What's wrong?" he asked, instantly alarmed, and she sighed.

"I left my emergency beacon in the lab. Damn it, I'm going to miss the launch and Sanati is never going to let me hear the end of it." The launches were running every half-hour, but she was already cutting it close. If she had to wait for the next one, she was definitely going to be late.

"Here, ma'am," Kennedy said, rooting around in his pocket and coming up with one of the little beacons. "I'm not going ashore until tomorrow. Just take mine."

She snapped it out of his fingers with a grin, already moving toward the launch. "Thanks, Kennedy. Remind me to give it back to you in the morning."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, and with a wave she disappeared through the hatch.

* * *

The place Sanati had picked fell somewhere between a bar and a nightclub, with loud music and a dance floor that was only sparsely populated. She and Sophie were sitting in the back corner of the room, far enough from the speakers that they didn't have to shout to hear each other although it was still loud enough that it would be hard for anyone to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"I don't believe you," Sophie said, shaking her head as she took a swallow of her drink. The alcohol caused an agreeable burn to start in the back of her throat, and a slow smile tugged at her lips. After the last few months she'd had, she was in desperate need of this: a night off, a few stiff drinks, and the company of an old friend who wanted nothing more from her than a sympathetic ear. Not that Sarah Sanati was going to get any sympathy for her current complaint…

"What's so hard to believe?" Sanati was drinking something pink and ineffably girly that made Sophie wince just looking at it. She'd stick to her straight whiskey. "He's single, he's good-looking, and he's intelligent."

"He's an ass," Sophie replied firmly. "He's so in love with himself that I can't imagine there's any room in his life for a woman."

"We can't all have a gorgeous genius like your partner hanging on our every word," Sanati informed her archly.

"Wow, Sass. Does Griffin know you have a thing for my partner?"

"I do not have a thing for your partner!"

Sanati took another sip of her drink, blushing a little, and Sophie shook her head again. It was a good thing she didn't have her partner's jealousy complex, because Sanati definitely had a thing for Lucas.

"I can't believe you're sleeping with Alex Griffin. Is he any good, at least?"

"I've had worse." Sanati glanced over at her friend, smiling reluctantly. "I've also had better."

The two women dissolved into laughter.

* * *

Several hours later, Sophie left Sanati at the bar and headed back toward the marina on foot. Griffin was supposed to be coming by to meet Sanati for drinks around midnight, and Sophie didn't want to be anywhere near the bar when that happened. It was bad enough having the mental image of her old friend having an affair with Griffin; she was decidedly averse to seeing them together in person. Besides, she wanted to get back to the boat before Lucas went to bed. Between bits of gossip about their mutual acquaintances, Sanati had given her several interesting intelligence tidbits, and Sophie wanted to discuss them with her partner.

Habit took Sophie out the back entrance of the bar. She always tried to leave a building by a different door than she'd entered, in order to cut down on the possibility of being followed or walking into an ambush. The back door opened onto a dark alley that looked like it had been taken straight out of one of those cheesy horror movies that Wallace watched. Sophie smiled a little to herself as she skirted the cinderblock barrier just beyond the door and headed out toward the main street. If Zeta Team were here, Wallace would probably delight in jumping out from around one of these corners and trying to scare the rest of them, and only the port's ban on personal weapons would keep him from suffering permanent damage.

Her ears caught the sound of boots on gravel, and she had half a second's warning before someone _did _jump out from around the corner, swinging a weapon. Her hands came up automatically, the defensive reflex saving her skull from being crushed by the blow, and she was driven to her knees as the force of the crowbar connecting with her hand shattered bone.

Before the pain of her broken fingers could register, she was moving, pushing up off the ground as her left leg snapped out to sweep her attacker's feet from under him. He fell, dropping the crowbar, and she grabbed it as her injured hand started to throb. Over the groans of her attacker, she heard several sets of footsteps. Either someone was coming to help her or -

"Well, look at that." The man, Macronesian by his accent, sounded cruelly amused, and he led three more men into the alley. "I think this one's a fighter."

Yokohama's policy on personal weapons meant that she'd come ashore unarmed, a factor the Macs had probably considered before they'd set up this ambush, so the only weapon she had was the crowbar. Kennedy's emergency beacon had been in her purse, which she'd dropped after the initial hit. Now the beacon was sticking out of the little black bag, not quite two feet away from her.

Sophie's lips drew back in a vicious smile, and she tightened her one-handed grip on the crowbar.

"You have no idea," she snarled, bringing her foot down hard on the beacon before launching herself at his throat.

* * *

Lucas and Kennedy had been working on the faulty sensor screen at Miguel's station for far longer than Lucas had planned. The problem turned out to be a series of wiring issues that had probably started with a single burnt-out connection and spread until it affected half of the system. Given the damage, he was surprised the WSKRS had been working at all. Kennedy was currently fiddling with their handheld magnetic spanner, which was also malfunctioning. Lucas had nearly finished rewiring the screen feeds by hand when the beacon in his pocket started to vibrate. He yanked his hand out from under the panel, swearing.

"Live wire, sir?" Kennedy asked, concerned, and Lucas shook his head.

"Someone set off a beacon." He pulled his own beacon out of his pocket. His was the master unit, with a small screen that showed the names and current locations of each of the team members who'd been issued a unit. "Kennedy, it's coming up as yours. It's also coming up as being two kilometers inland. Must be a malfunction. I swear, if one more thing goes on the fritz tonight-"

Kenendy's hand moved to the pocket of his uniform before he remembered that he wasn't carrying his beacon.

"I don't have my beacon," he said slowly, feeling dread starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. "I gave it to Commander Sutton."

"You _what_?"

"I ran into her when she was leaving. She forgot her beacon, and I traded my liberty tonight for Demarin's slot tomorrow, so I gave her mine."

Lucas was already reaching for his comset, opening a link to the team's default channel.

"Sophie? Sophie, are you reading me?" Lucas swore again. "She's not answering."

Kennedy tightened his grip on the spanner he was holding. Sutton wouldn't have activated her emergency beacon for anything short of disaster, and she always answered her comset.

* * *

Tony Piccolo took a sip of his beer and looked over at the pool table where Wallace and Demarin were playing a heated game against Martinez and Kelson. He and Miguel had called the next game, so they'd be playing against whoever won this time. He was hoping that Martinez would miss her next shot and Wallace would be able to pull off the win. He was pretty sure that he and Miguel could beat Wallace and Demarin, but Kelson was a shark. If they had to play against him, Tony suspected they'd lose.

Martinez lined up her shot, and Tony watched intently as she drew back her cue, started to take the shot, and flinched unexpectedly. He grinned as her cue tapped the cue ball, which moved several inches but came to rest without even touching the eight ball.

"Tough luck, Martinez. Maybe next time, huh?" he told her, but she had dropped her cue and was fumbling in her back pocket, ignoring his friendly ribbing. Around the pool table, her teammates were also reaching for their pockets, and Lightman and Shaw abandoned their game of darts to rejoin the rest. "Hey, what's goin' on?"

"Somebody set off their emergency beacon," Wallace said, grabbing for his comset. "Except we're all here. Did somebody crack theirs by accident?"

There was a chorus of 'no's as they all inspected their beacons, which were vibrating insistently, and Wallace popped the comset into his ear.

"Commander Wolenczak? I have a visual on all six team members currently ashore. There's no indication for a - what?" He paused for a moment, then swore so fluently that even Tony was impressed, looking over at his teammates. "We have an emergency situation, people. Commander Sutton activated her beacon and she's not answering on com. Wolenczak's sending us her coordinates. Let's move."

"_Shit_," Demarin said with feeling, dropping his cue and scrambling for the door. Tony and Miguel shared a quick look, silently debating whether they should go with the others. They hadn't been invited along, but if Sutton was in trouble…

They took off after the members of Zeta Team, Miguel dropping enough money on the bar to cover their beers.

* * *

Lucas sat in the wardroom, his laptop and the master unit for the emergency beacons sitting on the table in front of him. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white from the tension. He'd used the ship's intercom to order the members of Zeta Team still aboard the boat to report to the wardroom immediately, and despite his growing fear for his partner, who still wasn't answering her comset, he was impressed by how quickly they arrived. It was less than two minutes before they were all seated around the conference table, Kennedy giving them a quick explanation of the situation.

Lucas continued to stare at the screen of the master unit, watching as the little dots that represented the rest of the team came closer to the dot that was his partner's current location. He was trying not to think about the dire possibilities of what might have happened to Sophie. He desperately wished that Sophie hadn't insisted that they take turns going ashore. If he were there with her, he'd be able to help her get out of whatever she'd gotten herself into, and if he couldn't help her, at least he'd know what the hell was going on. Instead, he was stuck on the boat. He couldn't justify going ashore at this point; this could be a trap, a setup designed to get him and his people off _seaQuest_.

Instead, he sat motionless in his chair, as silent and tense as the rest of the team as they all waited for word from Sophie.

* * *

Zeta Team ran the half-mile from the pool hall to the coordinates being transmitted by Sutton's beacon in just under three minutes. By the time they made it to the dark alley near the marina, Tony was gasping for breath. Miguel wasn't in much better shape, but the members of Zeta Team didn't seem affected by the impromptu sprint.

"Holy crap," Tony gasped, taking in the scene in front of them. There were several bodies sprawled unmoving on the pavement, one with a spreading pool of blood beneath it. It was dark in the alley, but there was enough light to tell that the bodies were all male. Sutton was nowhere to be seen.

"Commander!" Wallace, on point, was ahead of all of them, and now he dropped to his knees next to a waist-high cinderblock wall at the back of the alley. "Zeta Team, secure the area. Shaw, over here."

Kelson signaled Miguel to follow him over to the entrance to the alley. Tony followed Shaw over to Wallace, and swallowed another curse when he saw Commander Sutton. She was sitting, propped up against the wall, with one arm cradled against her chest and blood from a gash on the side of her head turning her blonde hair crimson.

"Hey, Shaw," she greeted the corpsman, bizarrely cheerful given the situation. "Glad you could make it. Oh, and you brought a friend. Piccolo, good to see you." She gestured toward the rest of the alley. "I made a few new friends of my own. I'd introduce you, but they're dead."

"She has a concussion," Shaw told Wallace, who snorted.

"So I noticed. She only babbles when she has a head injury." Wallace turned back to Sutton. "Commander? What happened?"

Sutton shrugged. "Hell if I know. You're the expert on people jumping out at you in dark alleys."

Wallace and Shaw exchanged a look, both of them clearly baffled by her response.

"Okay," Wallace said slowly. He had no idea what she was talking about, but maybe it was an opening he could use. "How did you end up in a dark alley?"

"Sanati and I were -" She stopped talking abruptly, her uninjured hand shooting out to grab Wallace's wrist. When she spoke again, she sounded more like herself. "Captain Sanati is still in the bar. Get her out; get her to the boat. If this is a concerted attack -"

Wallace was already calling Martinez and Demarin over, and he sent them into the bar to find Sanati.

"Who are those guys?" he asked Sutton, trying again to figure out what had happened.

"No idea," she replied. "They didn't offer me any identification before they jumped me. The one who talked had an Australian accent."

"How many were there?"

"Five." She winced as Shaw tilted her head to the side for a closer look at the wound there. "You could have just counted the bodies."

"None of them got away?" Wallace asked as Shaw pulled off his own shirt and used it to staunch the bleeding, muttering under his breath about not having a first aid kit. Sutton gave Wallace a mildly insulted look even as she flinched at the pressure Shaw applied to her head.

"Other than this and your hand, ma'am, any other injuries?" Shaw interrupted them to ask. Her injured hand, which was currently tucked against her chest in an instinctive move to protect it, was bruised and swollen, and despite the low light Tony could see that one of her fingers was sticking out at an odd angle.

"Nothing significant," she replied, groping along the base of the wall with her good hand until she came up with a crowbar, which she handed to Wallace. "That's what happened to my hand. The first guy caught me off-guard."

"Any other weapons?" Wallace asked.

"No firearms. One of the others had a knife. It's currently sticking out of his chest," she added, with a sardonic twist of her lips. Wallace and Shaw exchanged another glance, and Tony wisely stayed silent. If it had been one of the _seaQuest _crew sitting there, he might've cracked a joke to relieve the tension, but Sutton was as likely to stab him as to laugh, and although the knife was otherwise occupied he had no doubt that she could improvise something.

"Sophie?" Captain Sanati had come out the side door of the bar and into the alley, Martinez and Demarin on her heels. "Oh, God, Sass," she breathed when she got a good look at her friend. "What the hell happened?"

That was all the prompting Sutton needed to launch back into the recitation she'd given Wallace, with several added non-sequiturs that made the story significantly longer than the first time she'd told it. He half-listened to his CO while he pinged Wolenczak's com.

"Report," Wolenczak said immediately, and Wallace could hear the tension in his voice.

"We have Commander Sutton, sir," Wallace said, knowing that was all Wolenczak cared about right now. "She's triage level yellow: a concussion and a broken hand."

"What happened?"

"She was attacked outside a bar. We have five dead hostiles, sir, and we've extracted Captain Sanati from the bar on Commander Sutton's recommendation. She's concerned that this may not be the only attack on UEO personnel tonight."

Wolenczak said nothing for a long moment, but Wallace distinctly heard several curses in his superior officer's silence.

"Get Commander Sutton and Captain Sanati to the dock. A shuttle will be there to pick you up in about ten minutes. I'm recalling all personnel to the boat immediately. Leave the bodies; we'll have to get the local cops involved."

"Yes, sir."

"And get Sutton to put in her comset. I want to talk to her."

"Yes, sir."

Wolenczak disconnected the call, probably to alert Bridger to the situation and recall the _seaQuest _crew to the boat. Wallace returned to Sutton, who'd drifted off topic and was talking absently to Sanati about nothing in particular.

"Commander." Wallace leaned down to come face to face with her, trying to get her to focus. "Where's your comset?"

"Um." Sutton frowned, looking puzzled. "In my purse?"

"Where's your purse?"

"Um," she said again, glancing over at Sanati for assistance. "I don't know?"

"Don't worry about it, Sass," Sanati reassured her, shooting Wallace a look that clearly said, _Find it yourself_. "How's your hand?"

Their murmured conversation continued behind him as he rose, scanning the alley for a purse that might belong to his CO. He could have just given her his comset, but policy stated that the ranking member of the team had to keep his comset on at all times. He doubted that Sutton was up to taking command of the situation right now, so he needed to keep the comset to coordinate with Wolenczak.

He found her purse near one of the bodies that Lightman was examining. Her emergency beacon was half-in, half-out of the bag, its casing cracked. That was another practical example of Wolenczak's genius: the beacons he'd designed were activated if their structural integrity was breached, so in a fight all you had to do was smash it to turn it on, no fiddling with buttons or switches. The core electronics were virtually shatterproof, ensuring that the rough handling wouldn't keep the device from working.

"What'd you find?" he asked as he picked up the purse and the beacon, catching the younger man's odd expression.

"I'm not sure, Chief," Lightman admitted, pointing to the dead guy's chest. "But I think that may be a minicam."

Wallace crouched down next to him, inspecting the pin that glinted in the dim light.

"I think you're right," Wallace told him. "Good eye. We'll take it with us and see what Wolenczak can do with it."

He went back to Sutton as Lightman relieved the dead guy of his hidden camera. Sutton was at least lucid enough to take her comset from him when he offered it to her, and soon she was involved in a three-way discussion with Sanati and Wolenczak that had to be frustrating for everyone involved. Sanati wasn't wearing a comset, so she and Wolenczak couldn't hear each other, and Sutton was barely able to follow the thread of one conversation, let alone two simultaneous ones. Eventually the captain took Sutton's comset out of her ear and talked to Wolenczak herself. Wallace expected Sutton to protest, but she was staring off into space, her eyes glazed. It was possible she hadn't even noticed that Sanati had taken her comset.

"Okay, that's it," he said, calling the rest of the team back together. They needed to get Sutton back to the boat; the rest of the investigation would have to wait. As much as Wallace hated handing it off to the locals, Wolenczak was right. Sutton's welfare and the safety of their people had to come first.

* * *

"I wonder what the rush is." Lonnie wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing briskly at her bare arms against the chill of the night. She'd neglected to bring a sweater, since it had been balmy outside when they'd come ashore, and now she eyed Katie's coat with longing. "I was going to get dessert. That chocolate cake sounded really good."

"Captain Bridger wouldn't call everyone back to the boat unless it was really an emergency," Katie pointed out. She and Lonnie had gone to a movie and then decided to have a very late dinner at one of the little restaurants near the marina. "Here's the launch."

"Finally," Lonnie sighed. "I am so ready to get out of the cold."

They traipsed aboard the launch, taking seats toward the front of the passenger area. Ensign Allison, the pilot, told them there were ten more people ashore, so they settled in for a wait. It wasn't nearly as long as it could have been, the rest arriving together a few minutes later. Katie nodded to Tony and Miguel as they boarded the launch, but rose sharply to her feet when Wallace and a shirtless Shaw entered, practically carrying a bruised and bloody Sutton between them.

"What happened?" she demanded as they guided Sutton over to a seat and helped her down, Tony bringing them the first aid kit from the back of the launch.

"We've already had that part," said the woman who entered after them, and it took Katie a moment to recognize her out of uniform. It was Captain Sanati from Section Seven.

"Some of us had that part twice," Wallace muttered, his arm still around his CO as he sat down next to her, keeping her upright. "Commander Sutton?"

"I'm okay."

Sutton's pallor gave lie to her words. Sanati sat down on Sutton's other side, wrapping her arm around Sutton's waist to help steady her. She pulled Shaw's donated shirt, now liberally stained with blood, away from Sutton's head, frowning at the laceration beneath it. It wasn't particularly deep, but scalp wounds always bled a lot. The important thing now was to stop the bleeding.

"I need gauze and a cold pack," she said, looking over at Tony, who was already digging through the kit to find the items she'd requested. Once he'd supplied them, Sanati pressed the gauze firmly against the still-bleeding gash on Sutton's head, ignoring her inarticulate protest, and put the hastily activated cold pack on top of it.

Wallace yelped suddenly, pulling away from Sutton, who started to slip down in her seat as soon as his support was gone.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sanati demanded, pinning Wallace with an impressive glare as she struggled to keep Sophie upright.

"She pinched me," he protested, only realizing as the words left his mouth that he sounded like a whining grade-schooler.

"Because you just sat there and let her poke at my head," Sutton replied, peevish. Katie choked on a laugh at the absurdity of it, and Shaw did his best to cover a smile. His CO had suffered several concussions in the years he'd been on Zeta Team, and she always seemed to lose her ability to restrain her impulses for a day or two afterward. That included physical responses as well as verbal ones, although he'd never heard her let anything classified slip; her security training was too ingrained, he guessed. He was more surprised by Wallace's reaction than by Sutton's pinching him in the first place. He'd known full well what he was getting into when he'd offered to be the one sitting next to her.

"Wallace, sit down," Sanati ordered, her tone brooking no argument. "Sass, _no pinching_."

Sutton made a face but didn't argue. Wallace eased gingerly back into his seat, refusing to give in and rub his arm where she'd pinched him. She had a grip like an industrial vise clamp. Maybe that was the explanation behind the lobster thing. Laughlin, who'd been aboard for the holiday party as part of Sigma Team, had told them about the Christmas gift Wolenczak had gotten Sutton, although none of them had any more idea about the reasoning behind it than the _seaQuest _crew had. This would explain the lobster's name, anyway.

"You could just pinch Captain Sanati next time," Wallace muttered, unfortunately loudly enough for Sophie to hear.

"I would've pinched her. I just couldn't reach her."

She had a point. Her good arm had been around Wallace's shoulders, and she couldn't very well pinch Sanati with her injured hand. It was already swollen, several of her fingers turning varying shades of purple, and her pinky finger stuck out at an improbable angle. Wallace didn't envy whoever was going to have to set her broken fingers. Given the pain it was going to cause her, being pinched would be the least of their worries. She knew at least seventeen ways to kill a man with her bare hands, and several of them could be accomplished one-handed.

He suspected that was why Shaw wasn't trying to find material for a makeshift splint, instead deferring the treatment of her hand until the five-minute launch trip was over and they were back aboard the boat. Who knew; it was possible that Dr. Smith could use some sort of psychic mojo to keep Sutton from flattening her while she fixed her hand. The doctor wasn't likely to give Sutton anything that would sedate her when she had a head injury. Knowing his CO, she'd probably refuse it anyway, on the grounds that if this attack turned out to be part of a Macronesian strike against UEO personnel she'd need to be alert. Trying to explain to her that staying alert wouldn't do any good when she was so loopy from the head injury as to be completely ineffective was thankfully not his job. That responsibility would fall to Wolenczak.

"Here," he said suddenly, groping around in the depths of the purse he was still carrying and coming up with her comset again. There was a joke to be made there, about him carrying her purse, but he was too tired and too worried about Sutton to bother with it. "Why don't you link back in with Commander Wolenczak and let him know we're on our way?"

She remained docile as he slipped the comset into place for her and activated it, and he listened in unabashedly on her side of the call. Her responses to Wolenczak were short, and she let her eyes fall shut as though she couldn't maintain even that semblance of conversation with the distraction of the rest of them in front of her. She was still conscious and she wasn't currently pinching him, though, so he'd take what he could get.

They were met in the launch bay by Wolenczak, Bridger, Dr. Smith, and the members of Zeta Team who hadn't had shore leave that night. Wolenczak looked a good deal calmer than Wallace had expected, probably because he'd been on the comset with Sutton twice since the incident and already knew that she wasn't critically injured. Either that or he'd gotten better at hiding his emotions.

"Welcome back." Wolenczak even managed to inject a little dry humor into his voice as he took Wallace's place as Sophie's left-side support. She leaned heavily against him; between Wolenczak and Sanati, they were supporting her entire weight. "Captain Sanati, glad you could join us. Too bad you missed out on what sounds like it was an invigorating bar fight."

Wallace considered warning the intel coordinator that he was currently standing on Sutton's dangerous side, but instead of pinching Wolenczak, she gave him a thoughtful look.

"Is it still a bar fight if it takes place in the alley behind the bar?"

"You know more about bar fights than I do," Lucas pointed out, and Sophie snickered.

"You want Demarin and Hallifeld for that," she advised him. "I'll be happy to defer to their expertise. Or Wallace; he knows dark alleys."

Wolenczak shot him a questioning look and Wallace shrugged. He still had no idea what the connection was supposed to be between him and the alley.

Off to the side, Shaw was gratefully pulling on the clean shirt Graham had brought him. Captain Sanati had given him back the shirt he'd sacrificed as a bandage, but he was pretty sure it was beyond salvation at this point, and there was no question that he'd prefer to go shirtless rather than don a garment that was still wet with Sutton's blood. Wallace must have given the others a heads up about his sartorial dilemma via the comsets.

"How does your head feel?" Wolenczak asked Sutton.

"Doesn't hurt a bit." At Wolenczak's surprised expression, she rolled her eyes. "Somebody slammed it against a brick wall. You're the genius, how do you think it feels?"

Now Dr. Smith looked startled, but several of the members of Zeta Team were restraining amused smiles. That was a classic Sutton response.

"Sophie?" Wolenczak said abruptly, and Jovasti looked back over at them to find that Sutton had gone pale, green eyes unusually bright against the stark white of her skin.

"I'm fine."

As if to underscore the audacity of that claim, Sutton's knees buckled and she started to slide bonelessly out of the two officers' grips. Wolenczak reacted first, getting his free arm behind her legs and scooping her up to cradle her against his chest.

"Sophie?" he demanded, and she blinked up at him without actually seeing him.

"Lucas?"

His heart was pounding violently against his ribcage. The last time he'd heard her sound that helpless, she'd been lying in a Macronesian prison cell, dying slowly in front of him. He couldn't go through that agony again, the horrible knowledge that she was slipping away from him and there was nothing he could do -

"Wolenczak!"

Sanati's voice was sharp enough to cut diamonds, and it jerked him out of the terrible memory and back to reality. He stared blankly at Sanati, whose expression softened.

"Come on," she said, her hand resting lightly on his back. He was suddenly hyperaware of their surroundings, of Bridger and Katie and Lonnie and Dr. Smith and his entire team, all of them watching him with varying degrees of alarm and concern. "Sophie needs to go to Sickbay. Dr. Smith?"

Lucas followed Dr. Smith out of the launch bay, Sophie in his arms and Sanati a comforting presence at his side.

* * *

By the time they got to Sickbay, Sophie was still dizzy and disoriented but had revived enough to be argumentative. She flatly refused to lie down on the bed. Lucas, knowing that arguing with her right now would be pointless, talked her into a compromise. Now Sophie was perched on the edge of the bed, Lucas sitting behind her. Her back was pressed against his chest, his legs bracketing hers and his arms around her waist to keep her steady while Dr. Smith examined her. Sanati stood next to them, Sophie's uninjured hand trapped between both of hers. Jovasti and Shaw, the only two members of Zeta Team that Wolenczak had allowed to join them in Sickbay given their medical qualifications, hovered just behind Dr. Smith, waiting for her to tell them how they could help.

Dr. Smith's first move was to check Sophie's head wound, which was still bleeding sluggishly despite Shaw and Sanati's earlier efforts. She was as gentle as possible while cleaning the wound and rinsing the blood from Sophie's hair to look for any other lacerations, but having Lucas and his people there to restrain her was the only thing that kept Wendy from getting hit as her patient lashed out blindly in pain. It was unintentional, shock combining with blood loss and head trauma to leave her confused and reacting instinctively. She didn't respond when Wendy tried to use her psychic abilities to soothe her, and Wendy realized belatedly that there was already someone doing the same thing.

"This is as good as it's going to get right now," Sanati told her softly. "Her shields are keeping me out and she isn't cognizant enough to cooperate with me. If you can treat the pain, it'll make my part easier."

Wendy nodded as the pieces fell into place. She hadn't realized that Sanati was psychic. Better, she appeared to be a fairly powerful telepath, which meant Wendy could leave the psychic manipulation to her and focus on treating Sophie's physical injuries.

She numbed the scalp wound and put Jovasti in charge of suturing it closed before shifting her attention to Sophie's hand. Several of her fingers were fractured and the joints disarticulated by what must have been an incredibly forceful blow. She used generous amounts of lidocaine to place several nerve blocks at the level of her wrist, numbing Sophie's entire hand before she even considered trying to set her fingers.

Sophie relaxed abruptly, her eyes sliding shut as she slumped back against Lucas, and Sanati sighed in relief. "_Thank _you," the intelligence officer told Wendy fervently. "She's impossible to link to when she's in pain. When it stopped, she realized what I was trying to do and stopped fighting me. Now that I'm in, I can keep her in a psychic trance as long as you need me to."

"Just keep her from taking a swing at me while I fix her hand," Wendy said, her tone dry. "Lucas, you can lay her down on the bed now."

"I'd rather not," Lucas replied evenly, and Jovasti and Shaw exchanged a quick look.

"Actually, Doctor, this angle will make it easier for me to suture the scalp wound," Jovasti said. "If it isn't inconvenient for you, of course."

"Not at all." Wendy hid a smile. Of course Lucas would want to keep holding Sophie; he was in love with her, and seeing her hurting had to be awful for him. His desire to keep her in his arms was incredibly sweet. The amusing part was seeing Jovasti and Shaw conspiring to help him like a pair of oversized cupids.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Wendy and Jovasti were both finished. Wendy wished she could have done more than just setting and splinting the injured fingers, but unfortunately there wasn't much more to do for that sort of injury. Sophie was going to be very uncomfortable for the next few weeks, especially if she disdained pain medication the way Lucas did. She could understand why her patients often decided against pain meds, since those medications caused cognitive dulling that interfered with their ability to do their jobs, but Sophie would be in a lot of pain once the nerve blocks wore off.

"I think you're safe to wake her up now," Wendy told Sanati, and the captain nodded.

"I'm letting her go," Sanati warned Lucas, who tightened his hold on his partner. If Sophie woke up mad, he didn't want her to take another swing at Dr. Smith. A moment later, Sophie shifted in his arms, blinking up at him hazily.

"Lucas?"

"Hey," he murmured, a relieved smile tugging at his lips. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Are you sure?"

"Mm-hmm." She turned her head to find Sanati, giving her friend a smile. "Thanks for the help, Sass."

"No problem."

Sophie looked down at her injured hand, which was now carefully splinted and wrapped courtesy of Dr. Smith.

"Three broken fingers," Dr. Smith told her. "And twelve stitches in your scalp. The concussion should resolve in a few days and the stitches can come out in a week, but those fingers will take a good six weeks to heal. I hope you aren't right-handed."

Sophie made a face. "I'll manage," she replied. "Thank you, Doctor. Lucas?"

"Yes?"

"You're going to break my ribs."

He blushed, letting his arms fall to his sides as he released her. "Sorry. Just making sure you weren't about to inflict bodily harm on anyone else."

"Who'd I hit?" she asked, sounding intrigued, and Sanati laughed.

"You tried to take a swing at Dr. Smith when she cleaned that gash on your head," she replied. "And you pinched Wallace so hard that he may lose the arm."

"I remember pinching Wallace," Sophie said with a grin. "It was his fault for letting you hurt me."

"You really do seem to be feeling better," Dr. Smith observed, sounding surprised.

"It's a side effect of the psychic trance," Sanati informed her. "It's a technique they started teaching at Chatton a few years ago. It lets the brain sort of reset itself. It's especially useful in people with psi ability, since it can suppress both shock and psychic backlash. It'll rebound in about an hour or so and she'll be out of it again, but it won't be as bad as it was before."

"Captain Sanati, I'm not letting you off this boat until you teach me how to do that."

"It'll be my pleasure, Dr. Smith."

"Lucas, we need to meet with the team," Sophie said without any regard for the conversation going on around her. Lucas looked down at Sophie, who was still leaning back against him.

"With Zeta Team?"

Her expression suggested that was too stupid a question to merit a response.

"And with the senior staff," she added instead. "We have to try and figure out what's going on. If the Macronesians have figured out a way to get people into our own territory and are targeting our personnel, we need to figure out who and where and how, before one of our people ends up dead or worse."

"You have a concussion."

"Concussed or not, I'm still the best tactician on this boat."

Lucas glanced first at Wendy, who looked disapproving, and then at Sanati, who shrugged.

"She's right, Lucas," Sanati admitted. "She's the best. She's also the only one who knows exactly what happened tonight."

"Fine," he said, aggrieved. "But only on the condition that the _second_ you start fading again, you're coming right back to Sickbay."

"Lucas -"

"Sophie." His tone brooked no dissention, but beneath it Wendy could hear the fear he must have been feeling since he found out that Sophie had been attacked. "Don't fight me on this."

If any of the observers thought it odd that she yielded to Lucas without an argument, no one commented on it.

"If you aren't going to take another swing at me," Wendy said, breaking the tension with a smile for Sophie, "I'd like to do a full exam and make sure we haven't missed anything."

"I'll stay," Sanati said immediately. "Lucas, why don't you go grab Sophie a clean uniform or something?"

Sophie's clothes were liberally splattered with blood, which meant that Sanati wasn't just trying to get rid of him, or if she was, she knew she'd need a valid excuse to do it. His own uniform was soaked from the sterile saline Dr. Smith had used to wash the blood out of Sophie's hair. She'd tried to be careful, but Sophie's head had been pressed against his chest, so a good deal of that water had ended up on him.

"Sure," he agreed, as casually as he could manage under the circumstances. He didn't want to leave. If it had been just him, Sanati, and Dr. Smith, he would have insisted on staying. Shaw and Jovasti were there, however, and he needed to at least attempt some semblance of professionalism for their sakes. "Shaw, Jovasti, you two can go change and then head up to the wardroom. We need to meet with the team and the senior staff, so let them know we'll see them there in about fifteen minutes."

* * *

When he returned to Sickbay several minutes later, he was wearing a fresh uniform and carrying Sophie's duffle bag, which held a spare uniform and pair of boots along with various other things he thought she might need. He'd removed the gun from the bag but, after some consideration, decided to leave the boot knife. Sophie wasn't in any sort of shape to be given a firearm, but he'd feel better knowing that she had some sort of weapon at her disposal.

She and Sanati were still in the private exam room where Dr. Smith had taken Sophie to do a more thorough exam. When he entered the room, Sophie was sitting on the bed, wrapped only in a blanket with her bare shoulders visible. Sanati sat in the chair between the door and the bed, situated so that anyone coming in would have to go through her to get to Sophie.

"I had to strip for Dr. Smith to check me over," Sophie said, in answer to the way his gaze hesitated on the blanket she was currently wearing in lieu of clothing. "It seemed like a waste to put my bloody clothes back on afterward when you were bringing me clean ones."

"Did Dr. Smith find anything else?" he asked, and Sophie shook her head.

"Just bruises," Sanati clarified, knowing that Sophie tended to minimize her injuries. Wolenczak knew it too, if the grateful look he gave her for chiming in was any indication.

"I assume that's mine," Sophie said, nodding at the bag as Lucas set it down on the bed.

"One spare uniform, as requested."

"Do you need any help getting into it?" Sanati asked, her voice carefully neutral, and Sophie shook her head.

"Thanks, but I'm sure Lucas can handle it," Sophie told her. That must have been the signal Sanati had been waiting for, because she left the room without hesitation, pulling the door shut behind her.

There were surveillance cameras in the main areas of Sickbay, but there were none in this little room. Sophie took advantage of that, snaking her good hand behind her partner's head and pulling him down for a long kiss.

"It's okay, Lucas," she murmured, leaning against him. His arms had slipped around her waist during the kiss, and now he held her tightly. "I'm okay. You don't need to worry about me."

He gave a little huff of disbelieving laughter. "I've experienced more sheer terror in the past hour than I have since you left me behind to rescue Zeta Team. I'd almost forgotten how it felt to be that scared. I can't help worrying about you, Sophie. I love you."

"I love you." She brushed her thumb against his lips, smiling when he kissed it. "I'm sorry I scared you, Lucas. If it's any consolation, it scared me too. The first guy came out of nowhere."

He pressed his forehead against hers, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment and just listening to the sound of her breathing.

"Let me see," he said finally, tugging lightly at the blanket. She let it fall away without protest, baring her to his gaze. He made sympathetic noises over every bruise and cut, his fingers gentle as they roamed over her skin.

"It's okay," she said again, and he shook his head, one hand cupped over a moderately-sized bruise on her arm as though to shield that particular spot from any further injury.

"It's not okay." The smooth landscape of her pale skin was marred by splotches of black and blue and purple, by angry red scrapes and abrasions. He wished that he had some way to soothe them, and he also wished he could turn around and inflict those same injuries on whoever had done this to her. Wallace had said that all five of the attackers were dead, but he wished Sophie had let at least one of them live so that Lucas could have meted out the same punishment to him. He'd never gone in for torture, but right now he could have done to any of those men exactly what they'd done to her and not regretted it for a second. "I wish they'd lived."

"Me too." At his surprised expression, Sophie quirked her lips into a half-smile. "I was planning on keeping one of them alive for questioning right up until the ringleader knocked my head against the wall. At that point, it stopped being about winning and started being about surviving. It was them or me."

"Then you made the right choice," he said softly. "Come on, let's get you dressed."

He helped her into her uniform, paying careful attention to her injured hand as he guided it into the sleeve. It was an odd experience; he'd undressed her plenty of times, but he'd never dressed her before. He'd had more practice at doing her hair, since he liked the feel of it under his fingers and she hadn't minded teaching him how to put it up. Now he smoothed the tangled and damp strands into a loose approximation of a bun. He was careful not to pull her hair, knowing that she must already have an impressive headache from the concussion, and used an elastic band and a handful of bobby pins from her duffle to fix it in place.

When he finished with her hair, he noticed that she was frowning down at her boots. She wasn't going to be able to tie the laces, he realized suddenly. Even if she could have tied them one-handed, the act of leaning forward to reach them would definitely antagonize both her headache and the bruises on her torso.

"Let me do it," he said, keeping the sympathy out of his voice and staying as matter-of-fact as possible. Sophie hated being pitied or babied, and he didn't want her to start resenting his help now. With her injured hand, she still had at least a month's worth of needing help ahead of her.

She pursed her lips but stuck her foot out to him, silently acceding. He made short work of her boots, even managing to draw a smile from her when he gave them a quick shine with his sleeve. He tucked the boot knife into her left boot rather than the right one, given the injury to her right hand, and pretended not to see her thoughtful look. He knew she'd expected him to refuse to give her a weapon because of the concussion.

"Ready?" he asked, forestalling any questions she might ask about the knife, and she favored him with another smile.

"Ready," she agreed, taking his outstretched hand and letting him lead her out of the room.

* * *

The wardroom was packed. In deference to the ranks of the _seaQuest _senior staff, the enlisted members of Zeta Team were standing along the back wall of the room while the officers sat at the conference table. Sutton was seated between Sanati and Wolenczak, both of whom were watching her as though they expected her to fall out of her chair at any moment.

Wolenczak had given the group an overview of what had happened, and then Sutton walked them through the night's events. She stayed impressively on topic given how confused she'd been earlier, and the details she gave about the actual fight were as precise as anyone could have wanted. That was years of military training and experience taking over, Wallace knew, but several of the _seaQuest _crew gaped at her as she told them how she'd bested five larger opponents in a brutal fistfight. Lieutenant Brody in particular looked torn between disbelief and admiration. Wallace was more surprised that the attackers had managed to catch Sutton off-guard, and for the first time he wondered exactly how much she'd had to drink before she left the bar.

"You're telling me this fight only lasted a couple of minutes?"

"Perhaps you've never been in a five-on-one fight before, Lieutenant," Sanati said archly to Brody. "A fight like that is always over in a couple of minutes, and it's usually the other side that wins. They would have won this time if they'd been fighting anyone but her."

"Oh, spare my blushes, Sass."

"If they were Macronesian agents, why didn't they make a play for Captain Sanati?" Kennedy offered from the back of the room, and Ford frowned.

"Maybe they didn't know that Captain Sanati was there."

"So in this scenario, I'm not important enough to make their hit list?"

Sanati sounded offended. Sophie's mouth quirked into a reluctant smile and she raised her injured hand, showing Sanati the splint holding her broken fingers in line.

"It's not always a misfortune being overlooked, Sass."

"You should be in bed, Sass," Sanati retorted. "You have a concussion. I'm getting a headache just from being in the same room with you."

"I have that effect on many people," Sophie said, sounding pleased with herself. Wendy exchanged a look with Bridger, wondering if Sophie should have stayed in Sickbay. She wasn't acting like her usual reserved self, although she was better than she had been before Sanati had put her into the psychic trance.

"Let's stay focused," Lucas said wearily. "If they were gunning for Commander Sutton in particular, how did they find her? Sophie, you would've noticed a tail."

"I wasn't followed to the bar," she confirmed. "I didn't put it together at first, but I think it's unlikely that they knew who I was."

"Why do you say that?"

"The attack was uncoordinated. With five attackers, I'd expect to see tandem fighting - several people attacking at once from different directions, and using the openings left by the others to direct those attacks." Sophie tapped the fingers of her good hand absently on the table. "They didn't do any of that. If they had, they probably would have won. Even individually, they were only average fighters at best, and there was no group cohesiveness. They relied mostly on the element of surprise and the intimidation of being a large group." She shot a dark look at Wallace, who was standing in her line of sight. "If my team ever conducted an ambush that way, I'd have their collective asses."

"Yes, ma'am," Wallace replied automatically.

"If whoever set up this attack knew who I was, they either would have sent better fighters or -" Sophie gestured vaguely. "I don't know, supplied them with guns and told them not to get too close?"

"Good point," Sanati acknowledged, and Sophie shrugged.

"We can't rule out the possibility that this was random."

"Random," Lucas repeated, skeptical. "We're in the middle of a war -"

"- and we're in what's generally considered to be a safe port inside our own territory," Sophie pointed out. "A woman alone on a dark street in a questionable part of town gets attacked…it's possible that these guys were out looking to commit some run of the mill violence, no ulterior motives involved. We can't overlook the obvious just because one of them had an Australian accent."

Lucas looked more disturbed by that suggestion than he had been when they'd been considering the possibility of Macronesians ambushing UEO personnel inside their own borders.

"Once I get access to the receiver logs for this transmitter," Lucas said, with a nod toward the small camera Lightman had spotted which was currently plugged into his computer, "I should be able to access whatever else they've uploaded. If there's video other than what they presumably shot tonight, that may give us a hint."

"Until then, I recommend we keep doing exactly what we're doing," Sanati told them. "All of the UEO ships in the area are on alert, and all personnel have been recalled from shore leave. The local police need to be told what's going on; I'll take care of that. There's nothing else we can contribute at this point. Dr. Smith and Zeta Team can escort Commander Sutton back to Sickbay -"

"Says who?" Sophie demanded, looking pale and drawn under the fluorescent lights of the wardroom. "I don't answer to you -"

"We're in different divisions, but I'm still the senior intelligence officer aboard this boat. Either you go to Sickbay and do exactly what Dr. Smith tells you, or I'll call your admiral and get you put on involuntary medical leave for the next two weeks. Your choice."

Sophie's glare would have been more effective if her eyes had been willing to focus. Even concussed, she knew better than to try and call Sanati's bluff. The last thing she needed was to be forcibly removed from duty for two weeks. Besides, she'd promised her partner that she'd go back to Sickbay, and she wasn't sure he could hack into the camera's files and worry about her at the same time.

"Fine," she muttered, looking over at Lucas. "But I want to know the minute that you have something."

"I'll come straight to Sickbay with it," he promised.

"Do you want to hang on to Jezek or Kennedy in case you need help with the camera?" Sophie asked, and Lucas shook his head.

"I'll call them if I need them. You don't have to worry about any of this, Sophie. I'll take care of it."

Sophie nodded, the motion setting her slightly off balance. She was probably going to need help getting back to Sickbay, but asking for help grated on her nerves.

"Ma'am?"

Jovasti was already there, she realized, standing next to her chair with his hand extended to her. She took it and let him pull her to her feet, noting that his expression remained inscrutable, with no trace of pity or concern. That was good; she hated that sort of thing.

She put her arm around his shoulders and let him lead her out of the room, following Dr. Smith back to Sickbay. The rest of the team was behind them, unfortunately, and she got the feeling that she wasn't going to be able to get rid of them without a fight.

* * *

Laughlin and Graham were sitting at Sophie's bedside, talking quietly, when Lucas entered Sickbay several hours later. Sophie was in one of the beds in the main part of Sickbay where Dr. Smith had initially treated her injuries, rather than in the private room where Lucas had found her last time. Kennedy was standing in front of one of the empty beds nearby, the parts of the malfunctioning magnetic spanner from their earlier repair work spread out across the bed.

All three team members looked up when he entered, hands moving instinctively to their weapons, but they all relaxed when they realized it was him. Only Laughlin frowned a little when he came closer, probably picking up on the psychic turmoil seething behind his carefully blank expression.

"Commander?" Laughlin murmured, and he tried for a smile. It wasn't nearly as reassuring as he would have liked.

"It's all right, Petty Officer. She's asleep?"

"For the past few hours," Graham confirmed. "She seems to be resting comfortably, sir." It was an understatement; Sutton's eyes had closed the second her head hit the pillow, and she'd been out like a light ever since. If she was in any pain, it certainly wasn't interrupting her sleep.

"Thank God for small favors," Lucas sighed. "Jovasti put the team on rotating shifts with her?"

"We're taking the first watch," Graham agreed. It was vanishingly unlikely that whoever had sent those men after Sutton would be able to stage another attack on her now that she was aboard the boat, but that hadn't stopped Zeta Team from setting up around the clock guard duty to protect their injured CO. They were as fiercely protective of her as she was of them. "He'll be back with a couple of the others in three hours to relieve us."

"Good." Lucas studied his sleeping partner. She seemed peaceful, as comfortable as Graham had claimed she was despite her injuries. He had no intention of waking her up to break the news about what he'd found, but neither was he ready to leave her to the care of her watchful bodyguards. He needed her close for a while. "Kennedy, is that the broken spanner?"

"Yes, sir," Kennedy confirmed as Lucas came over to inspect the parts. "There was a loose wire in one of the polarizing components, but I fixed that and it's still not working."

"Sometimes those polarizing components are touchy," Lucas commiserated. "One loose wire causes a short, which cause another short, and before you know it you've got a useless piece of scrap instead of a tool. Do you mind if I take a look?"

"Please do."

Kennedy watched as Wolenczak inspected each part of the spanner with meticulous attention to detail. He had no doubt that Wolenczak would be able to find whatever the problem was and repair it, even if he had to rebuild the spanner from scratch. The man was a technological wizard. He must have already gotten into the files from the camera, or he would have just called them rather than stopping in the middle of the job to come down and check on Sutton. Kennedy wasn't really surprised that Wolenczak hadn't told them what he'd found; he'd tell them if they needed to know urgently, but otherwise he'd wait to tell Sutton first. That was the way things worked in ISD.

Laughlin came over while Wolenczak was toying with one of the bits of the spanner. She and Kennedy exchanged glances, and without comment Kennedy went over to sit with Graham, leaving Laughlin alone with Wolenczak.

"Commander?"

Wolenczak tapped the little metal piece he was holding against the edge of the bed.

"You want to know what I found."

"Well, yes, sir," Laughlin said slowly. "But if you can't tell me that, I'd settle for knowing whether we should be expecting another attack on Commander Sutton."

He looked down at his hands, then up at her, and she felt a tingling in the back of her mind. She wasn't a trained parapsychologist, but her best guess was that being trapped in Wolenczak's head by that psychic pulse had left her with some residual sensitivity toward his state of mind. Right now, he was practically boiling over with a combination of fury and fear. Given what she was feeling from him, his controlled expression and mild tone of voice were nothing short of amazing.

"No, Laughlin. I wouldn't expect another attack."

She nodded. Whatever he knew and wasn't telling her was weighing heavily on him. Just being near him was starting to make her anxious.

"All the same, sir, I'd prefer it if we kept our protective detail in place."

"So would I."

* * *

Three hours later, Jovasti showed up with Hallifeld and Kelson to relieve their teammates. Kelson made a beeline for Wolenczak, who was sitting in one of the chairs by Sutton's bed.

"Are you going to be heading back to the lab to work on the camera, sir?" he asked softly, keeping an eye on Sutton's sleeping form. He'd never hear the end of it if he woke her up.

"I already cracked it, Petty Officer."

"Then you know…" Wolenczak's unreadable expression finally registered with Kelson, who swallowed the demand for information he'd been about to make and replaced it with something that wouldn't get him shot. Wolenczak gave them more slack than Sutton did, and his temper was far less volatile than hers, but he could only be pushed so far. "…that you missed breakfast. You're probably hungry. One of us can grab you something -"

"I'm fine."

"Yes, sir." Kelson turned around and went back over to where the others were gathered, his cheeks a little pink at the silent reprimand he'd received.

"If I'd realized you needed to be told what a bad idea that was, I would have pointed it out before you went over there," Kennedy said, and Kelson made a face.

"Did he say anything to any of you?"

"You know that's not how things work," Jovasti said tiredly. "If you're so desperate for information, go hit up Captain Sanati. You know he would have told her what he found before he came down here."

"I'd be better off just setting my own head on fire and saving Sanati the trouble," Kelson muttered. Captain Sanati was friends with Commander Sutton, but her fondness for their CO didn't extend to the rest of them. If Kelson tried to pump her for information, she'd come down on him with both feet.

* * *

Lucas had been drowsing in the chair next to Sophie's bed for hours when her hand finally twitched in his.

"Sophie?" he murmured, sitting up straight. She opened her eyes and groaned, letting her eyes fall shut again to block out the bright light of the Sickbay.

"My head is going to explode."

"I'm relatively certain it won't."

"More's the pity." Her fingers moved in his again, and she squinted up at him. "You're here."

"I'm here," he agreed. "You've been asleep for nearly nine hours." It wasn't a particularly long sleep for most people, but it was distinctly unusual for Sophie.

"If you're here, can I assume that means you found something?"

"I did," he confirmed, feeling that now-familiar tightness in his chest again.

"Who else is here?"

Lucas glanced up to find three of their team members watching them. "Jovasti, Hallifeld, and Kelson. And Dr. Smith, but she's in her office."

"Okay. Zeta Team," she said, raising her voice so that their teammates were guaranteed to hear her. "Give us five minutes."

Lucas didn't quite hear Hallifeld's murmured question, but he caught Kelson's answer although he was sure the other man hadn't intended him to.

"Because Mom and Dad don't want the kids to see them fighting."

They disappeared through the door and Lucas looked over to find Sophie's eyes sparkling with mirth.

"You heard him?"

"I think he wanted us to hear him."

"I doubt that."

"He lacks Demarin's flair for the insubordinate, but Kelson has his moments."

"So, did you really kick them out so we could fight?" he asked, a wry smile on his lips as he played along with the jest. "I know you're better than me at close quarters combat, Sophie, but I'm pretty sure that with the concussion and the broken hand I can take you."

"No, smartass, I kicked them out because you're too tense. Whatever you found, you haven't told them about it yet, which means you were probably waiting to tell me first." She wrinkled her nose at him. "And don't think that just because I'm temporarily down one extremity and my fine motor control, I'm an easy target. I know five dead guys who'd tell you otherwise."

He studied her intently for a moment. That confidence suggested she'd gotten her hands on more than just the knife he'd given her.

"There's a gun under your pillow, isn't there?"

"Of course there is."

"You have a concussion, your eyes aren't focusing correctly, and you're a right-handed shooter whose right hand is in traction. Who would give you a gun?"

"I'm an ambidextrous shooter, I can aim just fine, and who do you think?"

"Laughlin." It was the obvious answer. Laughlin would do anything Sophie asked her to, no matter how ill-advised, and she'd been in the group that had taken the first shift sitting with her. "I hope you didn't take her only gun."

"Don't be ridiculous. No one on this team carries just one gun." She squeezed his hand. "You're prevaricating. Tell me what you found."

He sighed. "Well, you were right."

"I usually am. Right about what?"

"The attack was random."

Sophie rubbed her thumb gently against his palm, knowing he was stalling. "What did you find, Lucas?"

"Vids." He raised their joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. He needed the contact, needed her warm skin beneath his lips as reassurance that she was alive and relatively intact. He wanted nothing more than to slip under the blanket on the diagnostic bed and curl his body protectively around hers, but he could only imagine her reaction to that in the very public sickbay. "Six vid recordings, all shot with that minicam that Lightman found on the dead guy, all uploaded to a remote data storage site on the internex. They were locked with a truly impressive coding sequence; one of those guys had some hacking experience. I imagine they wanted the security to make sure that no one other than them could access the vids."

"Lucas…"

"I watched them all." He sounded hollow, but his eyes blazed with anger. "I sat through every last one of those disgusting vids, Sophie. And then I ran them through every encryption and pattern recognition program I have. There isn't anything hidden in them. They're exactly what they seem to be."

"They attacked other women, didn't they?" Sophie said, her voice gentling as realization dawned. "That's what those vids were. Recordings of - what? Rape? Torture? What did they do, Lucas?"

Lucas exhaled sharply. "All of it. They did all of that and more, and they didn't stop filming until the women were dead. Sophie, we do…we do terrible things to people sometimes. It's part of being at war. I get that, even if I don't always agree with it. But what those men did to those women was -" He took a deep breath, nearly choking on the words. "It could have been you. That minicam was continuously uploading. The sixth video was of you, and it started the same as all the others."

"It ended differently," she pointed out with her usual practicality. "Don't start getting lost in 'what ifs'. I know that having an active imagination is part of being a genius, but there are times when it's a detriment."

"They could have killed you. They could have - God, Sophie, the things they did to those women -"

"Was it the same guys?" She made an impatient face when he looked confused. "Come on, Lucas. Was it the same five guys in all of the vids?"

"Yeah, it was."

"Then the problem is solved." At his expression, she added, "They're dead, Lucas. Remember? They came after me like they did all of those other women, but _I _killed_ them_. They won't be making any more perverted home movies or attacking any more women."

"That doesn't change what they did. What they could have done."

"Help me up."

His eyes widened in alarm as she started to push herself up into a sitting position, and he moved quickly to support her.

"You should be lying down," he told her, and she smiled wearily.

"I can't hug you lying down," she rebutted, tugging him closer to her. That was all the prompting he needed, and she found herself enveloped in his tight embrace.

"I can't stand thinking about what could have happened," he whispered, his mouth pressed against her ear. "I'm terrified, Sophie."

"I'm here," she reassured him quietly. She wished she could promise him that he didn't need to worry about losing her, but they were still in the middle of a war and their jobs were dangerous by definition. Still, she'd survived this particular misadventure relatively intact, and over the years she'd proven to be pretty hard to kill. She had plenty of enemies who could attest to that. "I'm right here, and anybody who wants to take me away from you is going to have to put one hell of a lot of effort into it."

"I'm not going to kiss you," he replied, still whispering to minimize the chance of being overheard. They were alone in the room, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Being caught hugging his partner after she'd been through a trauma was one thing; kissing her in public was beyond the limits of the discretion ISD demanded. "Mostly because we're in an unsecure room with rotating video monitoring."

"Mostly?" she murmured, her voice pitched as softly as his.

"Also because I have the feeling that Kelson's timing is impeccable when it comes to ruining the moment."

That surprised a laugh out of her. With one last caress, he relaxed his hold on her, lowering her head gently back down to rest on the pillow.

"Go back to sleep, Sophie," he urged her. "I gave Sanati the rundown of what I found and a copy of the vids, but she wants me to notify Lowry myself. I was putting it off until I could tell him how you were doing."

"I'm doing fine," she said, her tone reassuring. "Honestly, Lucas. As long as you don't mind pinning up my hair and tying my boots for me for the next six weeks or so, things should go smoothly."

"Whatever you need, you know I'm here for you."

They shared a smile, and then Lucas straightened.

"All right, I'm going to go call Lowry. I'll tell him you'll give him a call yourself once you're out of Sickbay."

"When are you going to call off my honor guard?" Sophie asked, indicating with a tilt of her head the chairs that their teammates had vacated.

"When you're medically cleared for duty."

She blinked at him in disbelief. "Lucas, that could be days from now. We both know there isn't anyone else coming after me."

"Too bad. Knowing you have babysitters makes me feel better, so until you're cleared to take command of the team again, you're just going to have to put up with having them by your side. Constantly. Waking or sleeping, every moment -"

Sophie's pillow, thrown with impeccable precision, hit him squarely in the face and negated his concerns about both her aim and her left-handed dexterity.

"Told you they were fighting," a familiar voice said, and they both looked over to see that the three members of Zeta Team had re-entered the room, their requested five minutes of privacy over. Kelson was the one who'd spoken, and Hallifeld and Jovasti were both trying unsuccessfully to hide their amusement at the scene they'd interrupted.

"Fight's over," Sophie declared, catching the pillow one-handed when Lucas threw it back to her. She stuck it behind her head again, covering the pistol that had formerly been under the pillow before they could see it. Hallifeld and Kelson would both understand her need to be armed, even while injured, but Jovasti would throw a fit. "Commander Wolenczak was just leaving. Feel free to join him."

"They aren't going anywhere, Sophie," Wolenczak said flatly. "Chief, until Commander Sutton is cleared to return to active duty, I'm in charge, and I'm giving you a direct order to continue guarding her. Distribute the shifts however you feel is appropriate, and do _not_ take any advice from Commander Sutton on the subject."

"Aye, sir," Jovasti replied over Sutton's muttering, wondering if Wolenczak realized what a bad idea it was to irritate Sutton further. He hadn't caught her exact words, although he could guess the sentiment behind them.

"You're wasting their time, Lucas," Sutton accused, and Wolenczak shrugged.

"How often do we get assigned to bodyguard detail? They can consider it valuable practice in guarding an unwilling asset."

Sophie's silent response disdained a mere eye roll and instead involved rolling her entire head, a gesture that definitely lost something in the translation when she did it lying down. She didn't argue with him any further, though, for two reasons she was sure he'd taken into account before he'd given Jovasti that order. First, she didn't want to undermine his authority with the team. She was usually the one who gave them their orders, which meant they were naturally a little more inclined to listen to her. If they were ever in a position where Lucas needed to be the one in charge of the team, she didn't want her own behavior now to make them hesitate in the future.

Even if inspiring insubordination toward her partner hadn't been a concern, she couldn't get his earlier words out of her head. Lucas wasn't a man who liked to talk about his fears. For him to tell her how frightened he was by the situation, he had to be truly rattled. She didn't have it in her to deny him something that made him feel less afraid, even if she wasn't looking forward to having around the clock company for the next day or two.

Lucas disappeared through the door and Sophie glanced over at Jovasti.

"Without giving you any advice you'd be required to ignore, Chief, shouldn't you have someone on the door?"

"Ma'am?"

"If you're going to cover a guard detail, then cover it. This team doesn't half-ass their assignments."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his tone crisp. He didn't sound irritated by the rebuke or even surprised; if she'd had to guess, she'd say he was pleased by her response. "Hallifeld, on the door. Kelson, take the far corner; it'll give you line-of-sight for the entire room."

He waited until they were in position, far enough away that they wouldn't overhear his conversation with Sutton, and then turned back to her.

"The Macronesians weren't involved, were they?"

"Jovasti -"

"You're off-duty, Commander. This is just a friendly conversation. Off the record."

"Off the record, Chief, we probably do need the practice as bodyguards."

He nodded, her response all the confirmation he needed. He didn't ask why Wolenczak hadn't told them what he found. There was a chain of command for that sort of thing; probably the commander had left to meet with Bridger or Sanati, or even to call Lowry and let him know what had happened. He also didn't ask why Wolenczak had ordered them to stay with Sutton despite the lack of a current threat toward her, since any idiot could figure that out. He was shaken by the attack, probably a good deal more than Sutton herself was, and having the team with her was reassurance for him that she was safe.

Besides, having them guarding Sutton in shifts meant that she didn't have to put up with the entire group of them camping out in Sickbay until she was released. He wasn't sure if that had occurred to her yet, but knowing her, it was probably half the reason she hadn't continued to argue with Wolenczak.

"They say practice makes perfect, ma'am."

"Well, we're the best," she replied, letting her eyes fall shut again as she started to surrender to sleep. "If anyone's going to be perfect, it should be us."


	43. Chapter 43

A/N: Sorry for the delay! This turned out to be way longer than I thought it would.

* * *

048. All right, but there's room enough for two.

* * *

"Would you please just lie down?"

"I have been stuck in a bed for the vast majority of the past 48 hours, Lucas. I'm enjoying the novel act of standing up."

"Yeah, well, I'm not enjoying it." Sophie had consented to a final dose of pain medication before Dr. Smith had released her from Sickbay, and he suspected Dr. Smith had given her a little extra for the road. Now Sophie was back in her quarters, leaning against the wall in what most observers would have taken for a casual stance. Lucas knew her too well to believe that; she was leaning against the wall because she was having trouble staying upright without the wall's assistance. "Please, Sophie."

"I'll go to bed if you'll come," she conceded finally, and he exhaled in relief.

"Absolutely. Come here."

She was a little unsteady on her feet, confirming his suspicions. He pulled back the covers for her, tucking her into bed. He wished they could have gone back to his lab instead of her quarters, since there was more room and a bigger bed. However, one of Dr. Smith's stipulations for her release from Sickbay had been that Sophie was restricted to light duty for the next week and would be working primarily from her quarters. If Dr. Smith came by to check on her, she needed to actually be in the room.

"I have to tell you something," she said slowly, as Lucas smoothed her hair away from her face with a gentle hand. "And I want to tell you now, while you're still feeling sympathetic."

"Using the situation to your advantage," he replied as he got into bed next to her, propping himself up on one elbow to watch her. It was a tight fit, the two of them in the twin-sized bunk, but they'd managed it before. "Standard operating procedure. Of course, I don't think you're supposed to tell me that you're taking advantage of me."

"It's about the villerium wire."

"Don't tell me I have to give it back," he said immediately. "I've already used some of it, and I'll fight to keep the rest. That stuff is incredible."

"I stole it," she confessed, the words coming out in a rush. "The first prison I infiltrated when I was looking for Zeta Team was associated with a research lab that was experimenting on the prisoners. After I realized Zeta Team wasn't there, it took me a couple of days to get together the right clearances to move to the next prison on my list. During the down time, I broke into the lab, stole a bunch of their data and equipment, and blew up part of the building." She paused, taking in his shocked expression, and added, "On the bright side, you don't have to return the wire. After I figured out what it was that I'd swiped, I got Lowry's permission to give it to you instead of handing it over to R and D."

"You…" He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head, putting his arm around her as he snuggled closer to her. "You definitely picked the right moment to tell me that."

"Good," she declared, squeezing his fingers with her good hand. Her injured hand was tucked against her chest, protecting it from being jostled as they cuddled on the bed. "Can I tell you something else?"

"I'm not sure I can handle any more surprises tonight, Sophie."

"I think you'll like this one."

Lucas sighed, steeling himself for another revelation. "All right."

"Sanati has a crush on you."

He stared blankly at the top of her head for a long moment.

"What?" he asked finally, and Sophie laughed, the sound tickling his chest.

"You heard me. She has a crush on you."

"She does not."

"Oh, but she does." Sophie grinned. "Now, see, if _I _were the jealous type, I might have to get Zeta Team to beat her up for me."

"If you were the jealous type, you'd beat her up yourself," he pointed out, acknowledging the dig. "Why would she have a crush on me?"

"What a ridiculous question, Lucas. You're handsome, you're smart, and you are both an officer and a gentleman, which is a combination that's surprisingly hard to come by these days. Why wouldn't she have a crush on you?"

"You're just hypothesizing."

"Nope. She called you a 'gorgeous genius'." Sophie reached up then, giving his arm a less than gentle smack.

"Hey! What was that for?" he protested, and she smirked.

"Stop fishing for compliments. It's petty."

* * *

The bridge was quiet when Lucas got there, the third shift crew sitting at their stations. On the rest of the boat, the lights were still dimmed to simulate nighttime, but the bridge was always well-lit regardless of the time. Lucas received friendly nods from several of the crew as he headed to the sensor station to finally finish the repair he'd started the night Sophie had been attacked.

She'd still been asleep when he'd left her quarters this morning. She was usually a light sleeper, but she hadn't so much as twitched when he'd gotten up. Granted, she was still pretty heavily medicated, and it was ridiculously early even by her standards. He wouldn't have considered getting up this early under normal circumstances, but leaving the WSKRS repair almost finished was grating on him, and now that Sophie was back in her own quarters he felt better about leaving her alone for a few hours.

Petty Officer Kelley was manning the sensor station, but she stepped aside to give him access.

"Good morning, Commander," she greeted him. If he hadn't been so tired, he might have tried to place the odd note in her voice. As it was, he just ignored it as he returned her greeting.

"Good morning. How's the station been behaving?"

"It's been temperamental, but it hasn't shut down on us yet."

"Just give me a couple of hours and it'll be as good as new," he promised, and she smiled.

"Thank you, sir. If you need anything, let me know."

"It shouldn't be a difficult repair from here, but thank you."

She hesitated, standing beside the sensor station. "I didn't just mean with the repairs, Commander."

He knew he must look completely baffled, but he honestly had no idea what she was talking about, and it was too early to try and puzzle it out.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, realizing that she'd lost him. "I've been spending some time getting to know the ISD team, and I know how upset they are about what happened to Commander Sutton. I figured it would be worse for you, and I just wanted to let you know that if you need help with anything - you know, if there's anything I can do -"

"Thank you, Petty Officer," Lucas said, touched that she would go out of her way to offer. Kelley wasn't one of the original _seaQuest _crew, so he didn't know her well; she'd been part of the group that had come aboard the boat to replaces those members of the old crew who'd decided to leave the military after they'd returned from wherever the hell they'd been for those ten missing years. Clearly, Sophie's order for Zeta Team to make friends with the crew had borne fruit, at least with Kelley. "I appreciate that."

* * *

He was deep into the repair job when his comset pinged, the higher-pitched tone indicating a call on a private channel rather than the group channel Zeta Team used.

"Wolenczak," he acknowledged as he accepted the call.

"Where'd you go?"

He ducked his head to hide his smile from the bridge crew, none of whom were currently paying attention to him anyway. Sophie sounded sleepily disgruntled. She'd probably just woken up and found him gone.

"I had a few things I needed to take care of."

"Are you going to be finished soon?" she asked, and he heard the rustling of bed linens as she shifted position. "I'm getting cold."

"You're going to have to grab another blanket," he advised her regretfully. He preferred it when she used him as her human space heater in lieu of extra blankets, her slender body pressed against him for warmth. The urge to put off finishing the repair job yet again was strong, but he resisted it. Staying with her when she was injured and in Sickbay was one thing, but neglecting his job for personal pleasure wasn't acceptable, no matter how much he wanted to. "I'll be at least another hour."

She groaned, clearly still half-asleep, and he hid another smile as he pictured her curling up in a tight ball under the covers, burying her face in the pillow to block out the world for a little while longer.

"You're not coming back to bed."

It was more of a statement than a question, but he answered her anyway.

"Sorry. Duty calls."

"All right, but there's room enough for two," she said, a hint of seduction sneaking into her voice. Lucas choked on a laugh, making sure no one else was listening before he replied.

"No, there isn't. I have a sore shoulder from sleeping crammed into that bunk with you last night."

"Mmm. Was it worth it?"

"Of course it was."

"Maybe I'll come by the lab later and give you a massage." She paused, then added thoughtfully, "It's just the one shoulder, right?"

"Right."

"Then me only having one good hand shouldn't cause any problems."

He'd been so wrapped up in his work that he'd almost forgotten about her injuries, he realized belatedly.

"Call me when you're getting ready so I can come back to help you," he advised her. There was another pause, and although he couldn't see her, he was positive she was making a face at him.

"I'll call if I need you," she conceded finally.

"Sophie -"

"Lucas."

The com pinged again, the call disconnected, and he sighed. She was so resistant to accepting assistance from anyone, even from him. He knew how much she hated to be dependent on other people, but he wished it was a little easier for her to let him help her.

That was a headache he could return to later, however. Right now, he needed to finish with the WSKRS station.

* * *

Sophie had managed to get dressed and put her hair up using just her uninjured hand and her right thumb, which was the only finger that had been spared from immobilization in the splint Dr. Smith had given her. Her index finger wasn't actually broken, but moving it antagonized the other three that were, so it had been sequestered along with its fellows. She was currently glaring at her boots, resisting the urge to throw one or both of them across the room; several attempts to tie them herself had ended poorly. She really didn't want to have to interrupt her partner's work to have him come back and tie her shoes for her, but she wasn't coming up with any better options.

A knock at the hatch allowed her to delay the call. She reached for her laptop, putting in the remote unlock code and inviting the visitor in as she promised herself that if it was Brody, she'd let him tie her boots for her and then kick him in the shins on her way out. It was uncharitable, but it would make her feel better. Maybe Ford hadn't connected the dots yet, but she was certain that Brody had been the one to start the rumor about the two of them. To her surprise, it had caused Ford a fair amount of distress; he was a private man, and he hated being talked about by the rumor mill, especially when it was about his love life. Sophie had been in ISD too long to be bothered by gossip - she would've driven herself to distraction years ago if she'd let it get to her - but she felt for him all the same.

Her visitor wasn't Brody, which was actually something of a disappointment. She was surprised when Katie Hitchcock entered the room. The two of them hadn't had much to do with each other since Sophie had come aboard, although the other woman had always been friendly toward her. Lucas and Hitchcock were close, and he talked about her enough that Sophie felt like she knew her. She wondered absently if Lucas talked to the engineer about her while the two of them were working together, upgrading the boat's systems in what seemed like a never-ending project.

"Commander Hitchcock," Sophie greeted her, sliding her gun into its holster as if she'd just picked it up from the desk to put it on, rather than having pulled it in case she needed to shoot whoever was on the other side of the door. "What can I do for you?"

"Call me Katie, please. I just came to see how you were doing." Katie offered her a tentative smile. "I don't know how much you remember about the launch trip back to _seaQuest_…"

"I remember that you were there," Sophie said, sitting down on the bed and gesturing for the other woman to join her. Katie took the proffered seat, surprised by how much better Sophie looked now than she had just a couple of days ago. Apart from the brace on her hand and a fading bruise on her jaw, there weren't any obvious signs of the beating she'd taken. "The actual trip is a little fuzzy, though. That's one of the hazards of a concussion."

"Are you feeling better now? You look better."

"I'm fine."

Sophie sounded a lot like Lucas when she said that, Katie noted with amusement, and it was probably just as much of a lie from her as it usually was from him.

"I'm glad. The whole thing was scary." Word of the attackers' real motivation, and the fact that Lucas had discovered videos of other women being attacked, had spread through the boat like wildfire. "I mean, it was just chance that they went after you instead of someone else, right? It could just as easily have been me, or Henderson, or any of the other women from _seaQuest_, and if it had been…" Katie shook her head. "I don't think any of us would have survived."

"Then it's a good thing it was me instead of you."

Katie was a little taken aback by that, but a glance at Sophie's expression told her that the words weren't meant to be insulting. It was just her honest opinion.

"You know something? You're probably the most practical person I've ever met. I mean, anybody else in your position would be a wreck, but you're completely rational about it."

Sophie snickered. "Oh, believe me, I have my moments. After almost five years of being partnered with Lucas, though, I've become accustomed to being the voice of reason. Someone has to do it, and it definitely isn't going to be him."

"You and Lucas - is it supposed to be a secret that the two of you are in a relationship?"

Sophie stared at Katie for a long moment, startled by the question.

"ISD policy requires discretion from its officers in regards to their personal affairs."

"Which means what, exactly?"

"It means that even if we were in a relationship, Commander, I wouldn't be able to talk about it."

"Can I talk about it?" Katie pressed, unfazed by Sophie's use of her rank to try and discourage her familiarity.

"I supposed I can't stop you," Sophie said, frowning. Clearly, Katie wasn't going to be satisfied until she'd said whatever was weighing on her mind.

"I'm not looking for gossip or anything. I just wanted to make sure you know how much he cares about you."

Sophie remained silent, so Katie pressed on.

"When _seaQuest _first came back, he was the one assigned to come to Norfolk and vet the crew. None of us even recognized him. Of course, he was ten years older, and we weren't expecting that, but there was more to it. He was so different. After he came aboard the boat with us, we got to spend more time with him and the difference became even more striking. He was cold, distant, angry…the exact opposite of the kid we'd all known."

"You don't know what he went through," Sophie said quietly. "You weren't there, so you can't understand."

"I know that. None of us were there for him, and we feel terrible about it. That's not the point I'm trying to make, though. The point is that after the prison break, after he got you back, he changed. I started to see glimpses of the Lucas I used to know. He actually started smiling again; I'd started to think he didn't know how anymore. And then in the launch bay, when you collapsed..." Katie's voice caught in her throat when she recalled the expression on Lucas's face as he'd cradled his partner's body in his arms. "I've never seen him look so scared. It was like he was watching his whole world fall apart."

"I'm sorry," Sophie said, although she wasn't actually apologizing to Katie. She didn't remember collapsing in the launch bay, but she could imagine how Lucas must have responded. She was truly sorry to have caused him so much anguish, regardless of the fact that the attack hadn't been her fault.

"Don't be sorry," Katie replied, her tone suggesting she knew what the apology was really for. "I didn't come down here because I wanted to make you feel bad about it. I just wanted to make sure you knew. He loves you, Sophie, and he's a really great guy, and you told me yourself that he's been through a lot."

Realization finally dawned on Sophie's face. "Wait. Is this the talk?"

"What talk?"

"The 'he's my friend and if you hurt him, I'll hurt you' talk." Sophie looked like she couldn't decide whether to be amused or appalled. "I have to admit, I was expecting that if anyone gave me this talk, it would be Lieutenant Krieg. He has a serious big brother complex where Lucas is concerned."

"It probably would have been," Katie admitted, "except he heard a bunch of stories about you from Ortiz and Piccolo, who've been hanging out with your team, and now he's terrified of you."

"And you aren't?" Sophie folded her arms across her chest. "Is my team telling tame stories, or am I losing my touch?"

"Neither. I just assumed that if Lucas is in love with you, you must be a decent person, even if you are terrifying."

Sophie laughed, and Katie felt the last of the tension leaving the room.

"Since I apparently don't have to worry about ruining my badass covert operative image with you, can I ask you for a favor?"

Katie was pleased but surprised by the request. "Of course. Anything."

"Would you help me tie my damned boots?"

The venomous look Sophie shot at the offending boots proved to be too much for Katie, who burst into helpless giggles.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, mortified, as she tried to get herself under control again. "I'm not laughing at you, I swear. It's just -"

"It's fine, Katie." Sophie was eyeing her now, looking thoughtful as Katie grabbed the boots and helped her put them on. She couldn't stop thinking about the engineer's earlier comment, about none of the other women aboard being likely to survive an ambush like the one Sophie had faced. "You know, my team's sparring practices are open to everyone. If you want to brush up on your hand to hand skills, you should drop by."

Katie finished tying Sophie's bootlaces and sat back on her heels. "I'd actually like to have a self-defense refresher, but I think your team might be a little too advanced for me. I saw what happened to Brody when he sparred with you guys."

"That's different. Brody is the head of security, and he was there to show off," Sophie told her candidly. "You'd be coming to learn from my people, not challenge them. I promise you'll survive relatively intact."

"Maybe I'll take you up on that."

* * *

Finally finished with the sensor station repair, Lucas headed down to the mess to grab a late breakfast. He was expecting the room to be mostly deserted, and he certainly wasn't expecting to walk around the corner and into the beginnings of a brawl. His experience with ISD took over, and before he fully comprehended what was going on he was already moving to stop it.

"That's _enough_!" he roared, his voice cutting through the noise of nearly a dozen people beating each other to a pulp as he grabbed the shoulders of the two closest fighters and shoved them away from each other. The rest of the combatants sprung apart, and he realized grimly that three of them were members of Zeta Team. "Fall in! Now!"

The fighters, all of them enlisted personnel, scrambled into line and stood rigidly at attention. Lucas walked slowly down the line, noting with some satisfaction that none of them dared to break their stances and meet his gaze. The _seaQuest _crew who'd been involved in the fight were a sorry lot, most of them with bloody noses or rapidly forming black eyes. One of them, a man Lucas didn't recognize, looked like he'd had his face slammed against a table ten or fifteen times; his nose was flattened and blood was streaming down his face, and his bruised eyes were already beginning to swell shut. He was clearly having trouble standing, and would probably have been knocked unconscious by now if Lucas hadn't interrupted the fight.

That man - Jones, by his ID patch - was the worst off, but none of the crew had come out of the fight unscathed. He was shocked to see that Petty Officer Kelley had been involved, since the sensor tech had never struck him as the type to get into a fistfight, and she'd told him just a few hours ago that she'd become friendly with Zeta Team. The members of Zeta Team, by contrast, didn't have any visible injuries. Lucas wasn't really surprised to see that Hallifeld was one of the combatants; she had a very short fuse, and she liked to use her fists to solve her problems. He hated to admit it, but she'd probably started the fight, despite Sophie's earlier orders that they were to behave while aboard the boat. Shaw and Kelson weren't hotheads, but they wouldn't have let Hallifeld fight outnumbered against the _seaQuest _crew.

"Who wants to tell me what the hell is going on in here?"

The silence was deafening, and Lucas drew it out for nearly a full minute.

"What, no volunteers?" he asked finally, and was met with more silence.

Asking them anything at all was actually unnecessary; the mess hall had surveillance cameras, and even if Brody's people hadn't happened to be watching that security feed when the fight started, the video would be saved to the ship's mainframe. Lucas would be able to see exactly what had happened. He knew that the interrogation would be expected, however, and he also wanted to see what the members of his team had to say for themselves after blatantly disobeying their orders.

"Petty Officer Kelson."

"Sir!" Kelson snapped immediately, somehow managing to stand even straighter.

"Who started the fight, Petty Officer?"

"I don't know, sir."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I didn't see how it started, sir."

"Did Petty Officer Hallifeld throw the first punch?"

"No, sir."

"You just told me you didn't see who started it. How do you know it wasn't her?"

"Petty Officer Hallifeld was in my line of sight when the fight started, sir."

"What's going on in here?"

Lucas turned to find Ford, Brody, and two of Brody's people entering the room. Either Security had been watching the feed from the mess hall after all, or someone had heard the fighting and reported it. Wisely, all of the fighters remained at attention while Lucas went over to confer with the new arrivals.

"I came in to get something to eat and walked into a brawl," Lucas told Ford and Brody. "So far, they've been remarkably uncooperative with my efforts to figure out who started it."

That last bit was pure sarcasm. Regardless of who or what had started the fight, none of them were going to tell the officers. Things like this were settled within the ranks, and anyone who ratted the others out to the senior staff would face stiff retribution from their colleagues.

"Are your people so bored they've started picking fights with our own crew?" Brody asked Lucas, and was taken aback by the glare Lucas pinned him with. "Geez. Sorry I asked."

"ISD regulations put any disciplinary action for our people at Commander Sutton's discretion," Lucas said to Ford, ignoring Brody. "Assuming they don't require urgent medical attention, I'm going to restrict them to their quarters for now and let her decide what to do with them."

"She's going to be furious," Ford observed, and Lucas sighed.

"She's going to crucify them."

* * *

Lucas led his three errant team members down, not to their quarters, but to the conference room in the old science section that their team used sporadically for meetings.

"Sit," he ordered succinctly, and they obeyed. "Do any of you need to go to Sickbay?"

"No, sir," they chorused.

"Good. You're finished giving me that 'I don't know who started it' bullshit," Lucas informed them. "Whether or not the three of you get out of this alive will have a lot to do with how I spin this when I tell Commander Sutton what happened. If she finds out you refused to give me the whole story, she's going to kill you, so start talking. Now."

The three teammates exchanged glances, but all of them knew what he was saying was the truth.

"What do you want to know, sir?"

"Who started the fight?"

"It was Jones, from CompSys."

The guy with the smashed face was Jones, Lucas recalled. He hadn't known Jones was from CompSys, though.

"You three got into a fistfight with someone from the Computer Systems department?" Lucas was astonished, mostly because he couldn't imagine any of the computer techs having the guts to antagonize his people. Jones hadn't been particularly big, and apparently wasn't particularly smart. "Did he start the physical fight?"

"No, but he provoked it."

"What did he say?"

Lucas was looking directly at Hallifeld when he asked the question, so he caught the angry expression that flitted momentarily across her face before she could hide it.

"Hallifeld?" he prompted, and she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not repeating it to you. Sutton can nail me for it if she wants."

With that forceful refusal, the pieces suddenly fell into place for Lucas.

"He said something about Commander Sutton, didn't he?" Hallifeld's expression stayed blank this time, but Lucas knew he was right. "None of you would have lashed out like this under normal circumstances, not after Commander Sutton ordered you to play nicely with the _seaQuest _crew, but you're all still wound up about what happened to her. Jones said something derogatory about her and one of you snapped."

"Yes, sir," Hallifeld replied through clenched teeth.

"Which one of you threw the first punch?"

"I did, sir."

Lucas turned to stare at Shaw, disbelieving. The medic's cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, but he met his superior officer's gaze squarely.

"You hit him? You aren't covering for one of them?" Lucas asked, jerking his thumb at Hallifeld and Kelson. Shaw was the absolute last person he would have suspected of starting the fight.

"Part of what I told you was the truth, sir," Kelson put in. "Hallifeld was in my line of sight when the fight started because I was holding her back. She heard what Jones said, and I grabbed her before she could take a swing at him. I didn't think Shaw would actually hit him."

"Neither did I," Hallifeld added, her tone approving as she looked over at Shaw. "I didn't think you had it in you, Eric."

"I'd do it again," Shaw snapped, in a rare temper. He was usually the most even-keeled member of the team, acting as the peacekeeper when his teammates clashed. "He was complaining to his buddies that they'd missed their shore leave because 'that blonde bitch from covert ops was too stupid to make it back to the boat by herself'. Then he looked right at me and said that if the men who'd attacked her had just killed her, it would have taken us a while to find the body and maybe he would've been able to get off the boat and have a beer first."

Lucas knew his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn't help himself. It was an awful thing for anyone to even think, let alone say out loud, and Jones saying it to members of Sophie's team was outright suicidal. He had to wonder if the man had a death wish; if it had been Demarin or Wallace who'd heard him, instead of Shaw, that wish would doubtless have been granted.

"I was there when we found her," Shaw added, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "She was propped up against that wall, barely conscious. I took off my shirt and used it as a bandage because she was bleeding all over the place and I didn't even have a goddamned first aid kit. Wallace and I carried her back to the launch because she could hardly walk. She could have _died_, and that bastard thought he could joke about it? Yeah, I bashed his face in, and I'd do it again in a second."

Lucas couldn't chastise Shaw, even though he'd disobeyed orders. It would be too hypocritical of him to scold Shaw when he would have done exactly the same thing.

"I'm surprised Jones isn't dead," Lucas said instead, and Kelson and Hallifeld exchanged glances.

"I didn't want to kill him," Shaw replied honestly. "I wanted to hurt him. I promise you, Commander, he's hurting now."

"Shaw didn't just rearrange his face for him," Hallifeld pointed out, still with that proud-parent smile. "He stomped on his hand, too. I think the broken hand gives it a nice symmetry."

Lucas closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face. He wasn't sure he could deal with this on an empty stomach and only a few hours' sleep.

"I assume the other two crewmen from CompSys who were there were the ones he was sitting with," he said, and they nodded.

"They tried to grab Shaw after he started hitting Jones," Kelson confirmed. "That's when Hallifeld and I got involved."

"When did Petty Officer Kelley jump into the fray?"

"After a couple of the guys from Engineering came at me," Hallifeld told him. "I don't think she was planning to get into the fight until she saw that I was outnumbered."

"Wait," Lucas interrupted. "Are you telling me that Kelley was on your side? She was fighting against her shipmates?"

"So was Pav," she confirmed. "Theo Pavaskevopoulis, from Engineering. He was across the room when it started, getting coffee, so there's no way he heard what Jones said, but when the guys from his department went for me, he grabbed one of them and nearly knocked his head off his shoulders."

Lucas knew Pav from the old days aboard _seaQuest_, so that wasn't hard to believe. Pav was a muscle-bound brute, one of the few men on the boat who could give Dagwood a run for his money in a weight-lifting contest, and he had some very strict ideas about the way men should behave around women. Twelve years ago, he'd caught a much younger Lucas checking out Commander Hitchcock's physique, and he'd read the teen the riot act about respecting the fairer sex. Lucas had always suspected that if he'd been just a little bit older, Pav would've smacked him around a little to make sure the lesson stuck. If Pav saw two of the crewmen from his own department trying to hit a woman, he would've knocked them into next month.

That meant that the fight hadn't been three against eight, as he'd originally assumed. With two of the _seaQuest _crew fighting on their side, it was five against six, which explained why none of his people were sporting visible bruises. With less than two opponents each, they should have been able to mop the floor with their opponents.

After a moment's contemplation, Lucas voiced that thought, and Kelson grimaced.

"We would have, sir, but you showed up about ten seconds after Pav joined in. The only person who did any real damage to their opponent was Shaw."

"And that was because I wasn't actually in the fight," Shaw admitted. "Not the brawl, anyway. I didn't pay any attention to anything except beating the crap out of Jones. Hallifeld and Kelson kept the rest of them off of me -"

He stopped abruptly, but he'd already said too much.

"They kept the rest away from you so that you could finish working Jones over." Lucas sighed. "Well, I hope the three of you are satisfied with the punishment you dealt out to him, because yours is probably going to be worse."

"Sutton is going to flip," Hallifeld said morosely. "We're going to be doing three-a-days until we collapse."

"And then she's going to kick us in the ribs until we get back up and go another round," Graham agreed. "This is going to be worse than the time she made us do that mock-Ironman as a punishment for Demarin and Graham pranking those guys from Section Seven."

"I couldn't move for two days after that," Hallifeld groaned, already picturing the sorts of torture her CO would be able to come up with now that she was stuck on light duty with nothing else to occupy her inarguably devious mind. "Are you going to tell the rest of the team about this, Commander?"

"I should make you do it," Lucas pointed out. When something like this happened, it wasn't just the offending team members who got punished. They were a cohesive unit, as Sophie was so fond of pointing out, and when one of them acted rashly, they all took the consequences. The entire team was going to pay for this fight in sweat and blood.

Lucas would have said more, but his PAL chirped.

"O'Neill to Wolenczak. You have an incoming call, Commander."

"It'll have to wait, Lieutenant."

Tim's hesitation was audible. "It's from the Kessler Institute. From Dr. Wolenczak."

Lucas froze, his mind going momentarily blank. He hadn't heard from his father in years, and couldn't imagine why the man would be calling now.

"Send it down to my lab, Tim," Lucas decided tiredly. He had to find out what his father wanted, even if it meant he would continue to go hungry. "You three go back to your quarters. The entire team is restricted to quarters until Sutton makes up her mind about what she's going to do with you."

* * *

Lucas hadn't seen his father, even through a vidlink, in nearly eight years. Lawrence was looking a little older than he'd expected, and his red-rimmed eyes and slumped posture suggested he was having a rough day.

"Dad," Lucas greeted him, nearly stumbling over the unfamiliar word. "This is a surprise."

"I know it's been a long time, Lucas. I'm sorry. I kept meaning to call."

Lucas shrugged; he'd long since become accustomed to his father's benign neglect.

"How did you even know I was posted aboard _seaQuest_?"

"I called Secretary McGath. I'm working on a UEO defense contract right now, and he owed me a favor. I wanted to make sure you heard this from me."

"Heard what?" he asked, frowning. "What's so important that you had the Secretary General track me down just so you could tell me in person?"

"It's your mother, Lucas." Lawrence took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There was an accident, and she - she didn't make it."

"She's dead?" Lucas asked, dazed, and Lawrence nodded.

"I'm sorry, Lucas."

"When? What happened?"

"Last night. She was driving home from a party with Pierre, and the police say she must have fallen asleep at the wheel. They were both killed."

"She was - who the hell is Pierre?"

"Her husband." Lawrence frowned at his son. "They got married three years ago. Weren't you at the wedding?"

Three years ago, he'd been overwhelmed with intelligence gathering missions and hacking into secured Macronesian databases and trying to figure out the enigma that was his partner. Thinking back, he vaguely remembered receiving some sort of card with his mother's name on the return address, but he couldn't for the life of him recall opening it. Maybe he'd misplaced it.

"No. Were you?" His parents' divorce hadn't been amiable, and he couldn't imagine his father deciding to attend his ex-wife's wedding to her new husband.

"Of course. Pierre was a politician with the North Sea Confederation. They were looking to hire a science team to fill an energy contract."

Well, that would explain it. Lawrence Wolenczak could always be counted on to make decisions based on his own enlightened self-interest. He would have tolerated going to Cynthia's wedding if it had the potential to advance his career.

Lucas shook his head. "Whatever. Listen, Dad, thanks for calling, but I have to get back to work."

"Wait. Don't you want the information for the funeral?"

"Uh, sure. Email it to me."

"Aren't you going to come?"

"I'm in the middle of fighting a war, Dad. I'm busy."

"She was your mother -"

"Really? Because she barely seemed to remember that fact," Lucas snapped. "I have to go, Dad."

He cut off the call on his father's surprised expression, and stared at the blank screen for a long moment before reaching for his comset.

"Sophie?"

"What's up?" she replied without preamble, and he sighed.

"I need to talk to you."

* * *

"They _what_?"

"They started a fight in the mess hall."

Sophie was staring at him in a way that suggested she couldn't decide whether or not he was joking.

"Lucas -"

"They were provoked," he told her, leaning back in his chair as she began to pace. "One of the computer techs said something derogatory about you to them."

"And they were - what?" she demanded. "Defending my honor? Those idiots. I gave them clear orders that they were to play nicely with the _seaQuest _crew, and they couldn't even go six weeks before they started a brawl!"

"In their defense, Sophie, what he said was pretty inflammatory."

"I don't care what he said!" Sophie snapped. "Who started the fight?"

"Shaw."

That brought her to a dead stop, and she rubbed at her eyes with her uninjured hand.

"Hell. That tech said something about the attack, didn't he?"

"Basically, Jones said that if you'd died instead of just being injured, it might not have ruined his shore leave."

Sophie flopped down onto the bed in the corner of the lab, letting her arms fall out to the sides as she stared at the ceiling.

"Shaw isn't dealing with what happened in Yokohama very well," she said finally. "He took double shifts sitting with me while I was in Sickbay, and I talked to him about it a little. He's still focused on what could have happened if the team had been hanging out at a bar farther away than the one they'd picked, if they hadn't gotten to me in time. No amount of reassurance on my part is convincing him that I would have been all right."

"You might not have been all right," Lucas pointed out, and she shrugged.

"I had the beacon. You knew where I was. If they'd been that far away, you would have contacted the local cops or sent the other half of the team ashore to help me. He knows that, on some level. He's just not up to thinking about it rationally yet." Sophie sighed. "We all have our emotional triggers. Right now, that's one of his."

"It triggered him to beat the hell out of Jones," Lucas told her, coming over to sit on the bed next to her. "Hallifeld and Kelson got involved to keep the _seaQuest _crew from breaking up the fight before Shaw was done with Jones."

"Just tell me he didn't kill him."

"No." He considered telling her what Shaw had said, about wanting Jones to suffer, and decided against it. Doubtless she'd figure that out for herself. "He has a broken nose for sure, and Hallifeld said Shaw made it a point to break his hand."

Sophie snorted. "I can appreciate the symmetry there."

"You and Hallifeld are spending too much time together," he advised her. "There's another tidbit you might find interesting."

"Oh?"

"Two of the members of the _seaQuest _crew who were in the fight came in on our people's side."

Her gaze sharpened, and a satisfied expression crossed her face. "Well. That might be worth the fallout from the fight."

"You think so?"

"It's proof that they really are making friends. Either that, or Jones was so offensive that his own shipmates wanted to see him get his ass kicked."

"Probably a little of each," Lucas decided. "Petty Officer Kelley was one of them. I saw her earlier this morning, when I was finishing the sensor station repair, and she offered me her condolences about what happened to you and asked if there was anything she could do to help."

"Oh, I like that." Sophie was smiling now, that comic-book supervillain grin that always unnerved him a little. "For that, I might even go a little easy on the team's punishment detail."

"I sent the three of them to their quarters and told them to pass the word that the entire team is restricted to quarters until you decide what to do with them."

Sophie frowned. "You didn't tell the rest of the team yourself?"

"No, I…" He hesitated, remembering Tim's interruption. "I got called away."

"To do what?"

"My father called."

"Your father," Sophie repeated, the frown deepening as she tried to remember the last time she'd heard Lucas mention his father. They didn't have the sort of relationship that lent itself to warm fuzzy chats on the vidlink. "Why?"

"To tell me that my mother is dead."

"God, Lucas," Sophie breathed, pushing herself up to a sitting position. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. Honestly," he added, seeing her disbelieving expression. "I haven't talked to my mother in years. We were never that close; she never wanted kids, and she made no secret of the fact that her life would have been easier if I hadn't come along. Aside from a vid call or two, and apparently a wedding invitation I never opened, she stopped contacting me after my father sent me to live on the first _seaQuest_."

"I'm sorry," Sophie said again, her sympathy this time for the boy whose mother had never wanted him. "I'm really sorry, Lucas. As bad as things got with my mother, at least she cared about me for a little while."

"Do you still talk to your mother?" Lucas asked her, curious. With the sole exception of the night she'd asked him to become her partner, Sophie never talked about her family.

Sophie picked up Pinchy from his nightstand and toyed with the plush lobster's claws, not meeting his gaze for a long moment.

"I talked to her a few times after I joined ISD," she said finally. "It was painful. I eventually stopped calling her, and she never called me."

"Have you thought about trying to reconnect with her?"

"There's not much point now. She killed herself a couple of years ago."

Lucas gaped at her, shocked.

"Oh, Sophie. I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"I never told you." She shrugged. "What was there to say? It's not like she and I were close. After my brother died, she didn't want anything to do with the rest of us kids."

"Yeah, but - are you okay? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I don't talk about my family." She sighed, putting Pinchy in his lap and then leaning back on her elbows. "You and I hadn't been working together all that long when she died. Besides, you were in Medbay. I definitely wasn't going to bring it up then, and by the time you got out, we had a new mission to worry about and it didn't seem that important anymore."

"I was in Medbay?" He'd ended up there a handful of times, but from her expression he realized which time she had to be referring to. "You mean after the grenade? The first time that you and I…" He hesitated, his chest suddenly feeling hollow. "Did that have something to do with why you decided to -"

"No." Her response was simple and matter of fact, and it made him feel immensely better to hear it. He didn't want their first time together to have been her kneejerk reaction to the loss of her mother. "She died the day after that. That's why you ended up with the entire team visiting you in shifts that day; I told them I had something I had to do and I wanted them watching out for you while I was gone."

"Did you go home for the funeral?"

"No. I went back to my place and got plastered, spent the next day with the hangover from hell, and then I went back to work." She gave him a contemplative look, as though she couldn't decide whether or not to keep talking. "You know I don't usually put a lot of stock in fate or destiny or any of that crap, but I can be pretty maudlin when I'm drunk, and the day I found out she was dead, I got obscenely drunk. Sometime around my seventh drink, it occurred to me that maybe it was a sign, you know? That I finally took a step forward with you and the next day she died."

"I'm so sorry, Sophie."

"No, you don't understand. It wasn't a bad sign. I knew she would never find any peace in life; not after losing my father and then my brother. The mother I knew growing up died with them, and the woman who was left…I thought maybe she'd stayed alive just long enough to make sure that the rest of us were taken care of. My brothers were all married by then, so I was the last loose end. And then you came along, and even though I never talked to her about you, I thought that maybe somehow she knew that I was finally going to be okay because I had you in my life." She paused, biting her lip. "That sounds stupid when I say it out loud."

"It doesn't sound stupid." He pulled her into his embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head as she leaned against him. "I haven't considered my parents to be my family in years. Initially, I had the _seaQuest _crew. When they disappeared, I was alone for a long time."

"And then you found me," she finished for him, tilting her face up for a kiss that he gave her gladly.

"I found you," he agreed. "So now I have you, and I have our team of well-meaning miscreants, and I have the _seaQuest _crew again. And someday I'll have my half of our deal, with a house full of kids and all of Pinchy's lobster cousins." He waved the toy lobster for emphasis, drawing a laugh from Sophie.

"Do you want me to arrange for emergency leave for you?" Sophie asked gently. "Even if you weren't close to your mother, maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing for you to go to the funeral."

"I'd rather be here with my real family," he admitted. "Actually, I wish Dr. Westphalen was here. She was more of a mother to me than my real mother ever was."

"She's still at Stanford?"

"The last I heard, yeah."

Sophie kissed him again, patting Pinchy on the head before getting to her feet. "I'm going to go smack some sense into Shaw. Why don't you give Stanford a call?"

He nodded slowly. "I think I will."

* * *

The line rang twice, and then the screen went to a view of someone's empty desk as a breathless voice came over the speakers.

"Sorry, sorry! Oh, what a bloody mess, this whole ridiculous thing -"

Kristin finally came into the camera's range, carrying a double armful of plastic tubing that she dropped abruptly onto her desk when she realized who was calling her.

"Good heavens. Lucas, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," he confirmed weakly, but Kristin brightened immediately.

"Oh, my dear boy. I can't believe it's been so long since I've seen you!"

"I'm sorry about that," he said sincerely. He'd only called her a couple of times in the past ten years, and only once since he'd joined ISD. He'd never made an effort to mend the rift he'd caused between them when he'd joined the Navy.

"Well, you're an adult now, and you have your own life to live. I'm sure you've been very busy."

He never failed to be amazed at her ability to sound completely reasonable while still managing to heap on a giant serving of guilt.

"So, what's new in the exciting world of military espionage, hmm?" she asked, smiling. "Have you been up to anything that you can actually tell me about, or is it all too top secret?"

"I was actually calling because I got some news today, and it made me think about how much I miss you."

"That's sweet, Lucas," she said, her tone gentling at the expression on his face. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"My, uh - my mother passed away."

"Oh, Lucas, I'm so sorry. That must be terrible for you."

"It's weird, but I don't really feel anything." He hesitated, considering that statement, then shook his head. "Well, I feel bad about it, but it's the same way I would feel if I heard that some distant relative died, or a friend of a friend. I guess - I don't know. She was never really my mother. Not in any way that mattered, anyway. You were the closest thing I ever had to a mother. I guess that's why I called you, because I was thinking that I _should_ feel more upset about her death, and then I realized that I would have felt that way if I'd lost you instead of her. But I already lost you by pushing you away, or I thought I had."

"You never lost me, Lucas," Kristin told him firmly. "You've always been like a son to me. Maybe we've had our disagreements, but don't believe for a second that I ever stopped caring about you."

"Thank you," he said, feeling as though a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. "I really needed to hear that. I miss having you in my life, Doc."

Kristin's eyes were suspiciously bright. "Well, you have my number, young man. I expect you to start using it more frequently."

"I will. I promise."

"Good. Now, I want to know everything about what you've been up to lately. Minus the classified things, of course. And when's the last time you had a decent meal, or a good night's sleep? You look exhausted."

Lucas smiled, dodged the question with the ease of experience, and started to catch Kristin up on the years they'd lost.


	44. Chapter 44

A/N: Sorry for the extreme delay once again. Time keeps getting away from me, and I had trouble fitting any of the remaining prompts to the story. For the record, I acknowledge that having a character read the book is kind of a cop-out. Six chapters left!

* * *

050. I think we had better not move out from here again, until it has gone quite dark.

* * *

Sophie sat at a table to the rear of the mess hall, drinking a cup of coffee and trying to ignore her pounding headache. It had been four days since her disastrous shore leave, and over the past day or so the symptoms of her concussion had started to worsen. Her vision was now intermittently blurry, and the headaches were getting more intense. The confusion and disorientation she'd suffered the night she'd been hit had resolved, thankfully, but she found herself feeling more irritable and less able to concentrate as time went on. She suspected that Sanati's psychic trance had something to do with it; she knew from her own training at Chatton that one of the possible side effects of the trance was a prolonging and even a worsening of symptoms over several weeks following the injury, although the trances were helpful in the short-term management of head trauma and psychic shock. She knew that, and she'd anticipated that it might happen, but it was just so damned inconvenient.

She took another sip of coffee, devoutly hoping that this would go away before Lucas noticed she wasn't feeling well. He was incredibly overprotective of her, particularly when she was injured or sick, and he wouldn't hesitate to drag her back to Sickbay and turn her over to Dr. Smith. The last thing she needed was to end up confined to Sickbay. She'd been taking the medication Dr. Smith had prescribed to her in the hopes of staving off the headaches, but she hadn't had much success, although they seemed to work pretty well to treat the pain from her broken fingers. The problem with painkillers was that they slowed her down, mentally as well as physically. She was still on restricted duty, so it shouldn't have been a big deal, but Pearson had contacted her yesterday with a problem that needed her attention and she was finding it difficult to actually get the job done.

"Mind if I join you, Sophie?"

She looked up from her reverie to find Jonathan Ford standing next to her table, holding his own cup of coffee and a small plate of those elusive chocolate chip cookies that the cooks seemed to hide from everyone but him.

"Is one of those cookies for me?"

"Of course."

"Then sit," she replied, giving him a smile. He'd been avoiding her, at least off-duty, since the gossip about the two of them had started. She understood why, although she found that she missed his company. Maybe this was a sign that he was finally getting over his preoccupation with the boat's rumor mill, or maybe the rumor mill was so occupied with the wild exaggerations about the fight in the mess hall that they'd completely forgotten about her and Ford. She'd only been sitting here for fifteen minutes and already she'd overheard three different versions of the fight, only one of which held any truth to it whatsoever.

Ford watched as she split her cookie in half, dunking part of it in her coffee before eating it.

"Coffee-flavored cookies?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"I don't have any milk," she explained easily. "Besides, it's good like this. Dunking the cookie in the coffee releases more flavor from the cookie, by some chemical mechanism I'm sure Wolenczak would explain to you in excruciating detail if he were here. You should try it."

He wrinkled his nose and she grinned. Ford was solidly against anything that made a mess. He'd probably never even dunked his oreos in milk as a kid.

"I have a proposal for you."

"One that requires bribery with cookies?" She dunked another piece of cookie in her coffee and popped it into her mouth. "Bribe accepted. I'm listening."

"I don't think it's fair that your team and the _seaQuest _crew will face a different punishment detail for being involved in the same fight."

Her eyebrows drew up sharply. "You think I'm going to let you discipline mypeople?"

"No, no." Ford looked alarmed by her reaction. "Not at all. I was wondering if you'd be willing to oversee the punishment detail for the entire group. Except for Jones; he won't be out of Sickbay for another few days."

Sophie sat back in her chair, giving him an assessing look. Investigating disciplinary problems aboard the boat fell under his purview as the boat's executive officer, and he was both smart and efficient. She had no doubt that by now he knew exactly how the fight had started and who the responsible parties had been. If he was willing to put her in charge of deciding the punishment for his people, he had a great deal of trust in her ability to remain professional. Either that or he was hoping she'd slip up and take care of a few of his problem children for him.

"Did you run this by the captain?"

"He said he has every confidence that you'll be fair and reasonable with all of them."

She nearly choked on her cookie. "Seriously?"

"No," he replied with a grin. "He actually said that it was up to the two of us, but if you agree then I have to keep an eye on you to keep you from killing any of our crew."

"As if you could stop me," she replied, and there was less humor in her tone than he'd expected. "I'm still on restricted duty, so I'm not going to be doing much other than reading intelligence reports and smacking my team around. I'd be happy to smack your people around too."

"Great," he said, relieved. "When do you want me to bring them by?"

"My people are starting at 0430 tomorrow in the sparring gym. For every second they're late, they get an extra ten push-ups, so I'd tell your people to be punctual."

Ford winced. He was a morning person, but that was barely even morning by his standards.

"I'll have them there on time."

"Good." She drained her coffee cup and stood, ready to get back to trying to solve Pearson's problem. She also needed to finish plotting the details of her team's punishment. She was going to have to make some changes to her original plan in order to include the _seaQuest _crew as well. "See you then."

* * *

Jen Kelley had always considered herself to be in good shape; she ate right, exercised several times a week in the ship's gym, and never had any difficulty passing the yearly physical fitness tests that the Navy required. After today, however, she was ready to admit that she was woefully unprepared to meet the physical demands that apparently were part of being an ISD operative.

They'd started in the sparring gym, where Wallace had led them through an unpleasant hour of push-ups and contortion exercises. The latter had really surprised her; she'd never pictured the members of Zeta Team doing exercises more suited to acrobats than to commandos, but they all were impressively flexible. When she'd dared to murmur an inquiry to Kelson, who was on the mat next to hers, he'd grinned and pointed out that there wasn't a ventilation shaft in the world he couldn't maneuver his way through. Then he'd put his foot behind his head, which was an image that was going to stick with her for a while.

After that had been sparring practice, during which she and most of her shipmates had been thoroughly outmatched. None of them had been injured beyond a few superficial bruises, though, and she suspected that Sutton had instructed her team to pull their punches to keep from actually hurting anyone. Then they'd run a full circuit of the ship – every deck, every corridor – before hitting the regular gym to alternate on the stationary bikes and the weights. They'd been granted a quick break for lunch, and by that point she'd been starving. However, she'd ended up in line in the mess hall behind Demarin, who'd only taken a protein shake and a banana. She'd thought that was strange, but after realizing that most of his teammates had made similar choices, she followed his example. That earned her an approving nod from Wallace, and belatedly she'd realized that if the afternoon was going to be anything like the morning had been, anyone who stuffed themselves at lunch was likely to be throwing up after a few hours of sprints and sit-ups.

Now they were in the sparring gym again, and she was grateful that she'd copied Demarin's choices at lunch. Already two of her shipmates had excused themselves to the head, looking green and earning a raised eyebrow from Sutton. Sutton herself hadn't participated in any of the day's activities. When they sparred, she moved from pair to pair, correcting techniques and offering pointers. Otherwise she simply watched from the front of the room, her expression inscrutable. She made Kelley nervous, frankly, and she wondered how the members of Zeta Team got anything done if Sutton stared at them like that all the time. Even Commander Ford had only stuck around for a while and then gone back to the bridge.

* * *

Katie and Lonnie showed up at the sparring gym around 1400 hours, both dressed to work out.

"Are you sure about this, Commander?" Lonnie asked dubiously as they eyed the door to the gym. "I mean, you saw what happened to Lieutenant Brody. I don't want to spend the next week with a gigantic black eye."

"I got the impression that Brody provoked them," Katie replied. She thought that the scenario Sutton had described was probably exactly what had happened; Jim and his ego had needled her team until they'd finally decided to retaliate. "Commander Sutton said she'd tell them to go easy on us."

Lonnie still looked unconvinced, but she'd agreed to this plan when Hitchcock had proposed it, and now she followed the commander into the gym with the air of a prisoner headed into an execution chamber.

The scene they walked in on didn't bolster her confidence any. Sutton's team was split off into pairs and practicing no-holds-barred combat. It took her a few moments of watching the brutal fighting going on in the room to realize that it wasn't just Sutton's team; some of her own shipmates were there, each fighting against an ISD operative. They didn't seem to be going any easier on the _seaQuest _crew than they were on each other, but none of the crewmembers who were fighting looked half as bad as Brody had after he'd practiced with this team. Maybe Hitchcock was right.

"Commander Hitchcock. Lieutenant Henderson. What can I do for you?"

They both turned to face Sutton, who'd approached them unnoticed while they'd been busy watching the sparring pairs.

"You mentioned that I could stop by if I wanted to get in some sparring practice. I told Henderson about it, and we decided to come down together," Katie explained, surprised by Sutton's brusque tone. The other woman's expression did soften a little at the reminder of their previous conversation, but she still looked irritated by their impromptu arrival. "If this is a bad time, we can come some other day," she added, and Sutton shook her head.

"Today isn't a typical practice for us, but if you'd like to stay and participate, we'll work something out. We're going to be doing strength and cardio exercises intermittently, though, and if you decide to stay you'll be expected to participate."

Katie glanced over at Lonnie, who shrugged. "We'll try to keep up," Katie offered, and Sutton shrugged.

"Let me pull a couple of my people," she told them. Lonnie looked over at Katie as Sutton went over to a pair of her teammates.

"I don't think she's happy to see us," she murmured, and Katie frowned.

"She was nice about it when she suggested it," she replied quietly. "Maybe we're interrupting something important?"

"It doesn't look like anything special," Lonnie pointed out, and then Sutton returned, this time with two of her teammates in tow.

"Graham and Lightman will spar with the two of you. They'll start out by assessing your skill level and go from there. I'll be over there if you need me," she added, gesturing to the far side of the room.

"Okay," Katie said, but she was talking to herself, Sutton already halfway across the room. She turned to Graham, who exchanged a quick look with Lightman and then offered Katie an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. I think she's a little…preoccupied," he told her, and gestured over to an open spot on the mats. "Why don't we just get started?"

* * *

Kelley, intent on trying to get her technique right for the side kick she was practicing, didn't notice that Jovasti's attention had wandered, and her kick connected squarely with his ribs. He winced, stepping back, and she froze in surprise. She hadn't landed a single hit on him in the half-hour they'd been sparring against each other.

"What happened?" she asked, frowning at him, and Jovasti shook his head.

"Go trade places with Shaw and send him to me, would you?" he asked, heading for the other side of the room before she had a chance to respond. She watched him go for a moment and then went to find Shaw. Jovasti had sounded concerned, so whatever had distracted him must have been important. It looked like he was headed for Commander Sutton, who was over by the far wall, standing with her back to them.

Shaw was sparring with Wallace, and they both paused as she approached them.

"Chief Jovasti asked for you to join him over there," she told Shaw, pointing over to where Jovasti and Sutton were now talking. "I don't know –" She stopped abruptly, watching as Sutton stumbled and Jovasti caught her arm. She was starting toward them when she felt a hand on her own arm, and she looked up to find Wallace holding her back.

"Jovasti asked for Shaw," he reminded her, not unkindly. "If he needs you, he'll tell you."

"But Commander Sutton -"

"- is in good hands," he finished for her. "They're our team medics. If she's sick, they'll take care of her." He glanced over at Jovasti, realizing that the other man was signaling him using the rough sign language they sometimes used in the field. "And right now they'd like the rest of us out of here." Wallace raised his voice so that it was audible over the noise in the room. "All right, people, we're running another circuit. Let's go."

Several of his teammates looked over to where Sutton stood, but when she didn't protest the order or even turn around, they headed for the door. Kelley found herself swept up in the mass exodus, and only managed one quick backward glance before she was out of the room and putting on speed to keep up with everyone else.

* * *

It had been pure luck that Jovasti happened to be looking directly at Sutton when the bleeding started, an instant before she realized there was a problem and turned away from the rest of them to hide it. Wallace had managed to clear the room quickly, and now Jovasti guided her over to one of the chairs along the wall as Shaw grabbed a clean towel.

"I'm fine," she protested as Shaw leaned her head forward and applied pressure to her nose with the towel, trying to stop the nosebleed.

"Did you get hit?" Jovasti asked.

"No, it just happened." She sounded dazed, and his frown deepened.

"We need to get you to Sickbay," he told her, and cut off her automatic protest by adding, "Or we can just call Dr. Smith and Commander Wolenczak and have them meet us here."

She sighed, defeated, and let him help her to her feet. She might have tolerated having Dr. Smith called to come down and check her out, but he knew that after the events of the past week, the last thing she wanted was to worry Wolenczak. If he was called to the sparring gym because his partner had developed an urgent medical problem, 'worry' wouldn't even begin to cover it.

* * *

Dr. Smith looked startled to see them, which Jovasti supposed was a natural reaction given that Sutton was leaning on Shaw and still had traces of blood on her face.

"What happened?" Dr. Smith asked, guiding Sutton over to the closest bed.

"Spontaneous nosebleed, and her balance is off," Jovasti replied, watching as the doctor tilted Sutton's head back to shine a penlight into her eyes. Sutton winced, closing her eyes against the light.

"And she has a headache," Dr. Smith concluded. "Commander Sutton, how long has this been going on?"

"This is the first nosebleed. The headache and the balance problems have been going on since the concussion," she admitted. "It got better for a few days, then started to get worse."

"Concussions don't typically get worse unless there's a second head injury," Dr. Smith pointed out. "Have you been re-injured at all since then?"

"No, but delayed reactions can be a side effect of psychic trances."

"Captain Sanati didn't mention it."

Sutton shrugged, clearly unconcerned by Sanati's omission. "It'll pass," she replied, and Dr. Smith frowned.

"I hope it does, but until then you need to be in Sickbay. I want to run some additional tests."

"I'm fine," Sutton started to argue, but was cut off when the door opened again and Wolenczak entered the room.

"What happened?" he demanded, looking from Sutton to Dr. Smith, and Sutton sighed. One of their other teammates must have realized she was ill and called him on his comset during their run.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"You've had worsening symptoms for several days that could indicate a serious problem, Commander. You aren't fine, and you aren't leaving," Dr. Smith informed her. "If I have to go to Captain Bridger, I will."

"That won't be necessary," Wolenczak said firmly. "Commander Sutton will cooperate with whatever testing you think is necessary, and she'll remain here until you release her."

Sutton glared at her partner, whose impassive expression didn't waver.

"Why don't we give you a few minutes?" Dr. Smith interjected, glancing at Jovasti and Shaw, both of whom looked like they were desperate to be anywhere else.

"Thank you," Lucas replied, and the three of them made a quick retreat to Dr. Smith's office as he turned to confront Sophie.

"What symptoms is she talking about?" he demanded, once the others were out of earshot.

"It's just a headache, Lucas. It's no big deal."

"If that were true, Dr. Smith wouldn't be so concerned." He reached out to brush the tip of his finger along the side of her nose, and it came away tinged with red. He held his hand up for her inspection. "It's clearly not just a headache, Sophie. She said that you've been getting worse for days, and this is the first time I'm hearing about it?"

"It's a side effect of the trance. It'll go away on its own," she replied, although she knew the argument was probably futile given the look on his face.

"I can't believe you didn't say anything." Anger and worry warred inside him, and anger won. "How could you keep something like this from me? What if it's serious, Sophie?"

"It isn't."

"You don't know that!" He turned away from her for a moment, grabbing a tissue from the shelf beside the bed and wiping her blood off of his hand as he tried to get himself back under control. Once he thought he could continue the conversation without yelling at her, he turned back around and found her watching him with an apologetic expression. That surprised him; he'd expected defiance.

"I know I've put you through a lot lately, Lucas, and I'm sorry. I should have told you I wasn't feeling well, but I didn't want to end up here."

"And yet, here you are," he retorted, and she sighed.

"I can't afford to be stuck here. Pearson called me yesterday to give me a heads up that the intelligence community has been buzzing for the past few days. The Macs are planning something big, and if we can't figure out what it is in time to stop it, things are only going to get worse."

He'd known something was going on yesterday when she hadn't come to bed until almost two in the morning, but she hadn't given him any specifics and he hadn't asked. A lot of the problems she dealt with, particularly with threat assessment, turned out to be paper tigers, rumors or allegations with little substance behind them. Only a few of them became issues that ISD actually needed to address.

"The intelligence community is going to have to take care of this one without you," he informed her. "You can't win the war all by yourself, Sophie, and it won't solve anything if you kill yourself trying."

She was silent for a moment, and then shook her head.

"You know, this is the part where I'd usually argue with you, but I'm dizzy and exhausted and I have a blinding headache."

"Then you should lie down," he advised. "Relax, Sophie. Close your eyes. Dr. Smith will run whatever tests she has, and when you're feeling better, you can go back to dazzling the intelligence world with your brilliance."

She smiled a little at that and did as he instructed, lying down on the diagnostic bed and closing her eyes with a docility that concerned him as much as her symptoms did. He'd expected her to fight him tooth and nail over this, not just give up after a token protest.

He left her to rest and went over to Dr. Smith's office, where she'd taken Jovasti and Shaw. He was surprised to find that both of his teammates were gone.

"I sent them back to the rest of your team," Wendy said in answer to his unspoken question. "I think she's more likely to be forthcoming about her symptoms if they aren't here. How does she seem to you?"

"She's definitely sick," Lucas told her without preamble. "She barely even fought me when I insisted she stay here. That's definitely not normal behavior for her."

"Does she seem confused at all to you?"

"No, but she's -" He hesitated, trying to put what he'd noticed into words. "She's a little sedated, I guess. It seems like she's thinking slower than usual. Which is weird, because I've seen her concussed before and that hasn't happened. She's only like that when she's medicated."

A piece of the puzzle fell into place for Wendy. "She's been taking the pain medication I prescribed for her hand," she said, and Lucas shook his head automatically.

"She hates pain meds. She won't take them unless she's forced to."

"Not usually, but I'll bet she's been trying to hide the headaches. She's probably been taking the meds in the hopes that they'd help. They probably did help a little, although that particular medication doesn't do much for headaches. That would explain the nosebleed, too; that's a side effect of the medication."

Lucas paused, an unpleasant idea occurring to him.

"What would that medication do if she combined it with something?"

"Depends on what she was combining it with."

"Hang on," he said, and headed back into the main area of Sickbay. Wendy followed him at a distance, watching as he approached Sophie's bed.

"Sophie?" he murmured, his hand on her shoulder, and she opened her eyes, blinking up at him.

"What's wrong?"

"What have you been taking for the headaches?"

"Just the pills Dr. Smith gave me for my hand."

"Nothing else?" he pressed. "You haven't been taking any of Adler's cocktails?" Adler was the narcotic-loving doctor from ISD who stocked the extensive medical kit Sophie kept in her quarters. If she was also taking something he'd prescribed, there was no telling what sort of effect the combination could be having on her.

"I'm not that reckless, Lucas," she informed him dryly. "I wouldn't mix medications like that. Besides, taking anything of Adler's would have put me completely out of commission. I was trying to stay functional, remember?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out how reckless she'd been in the past, how she'd proven over and over that she'd do whatever stupidly dangerous thing she had to in order to get the job done, but right now that wouldn't help anything. Besides, she did have a point that more medications would have slowed her down even further.

"I just wanted to make sure," he told her instead. "How's your head?"

"Still pounding. It gives me a whole new appreciation for what you go through," she added, referring to his chronic migraines.

"I certainly wouldn't wish that on you," Lucas replied, looking up as Wendy joined them. "Hey, Doc."

"Is everything all right over here?" she asked, testing the waters, and Lucas nodded.

"Is it okay if I stick around?" he asked her, and she hesitated.

"Actually, I'd like to get started on that testing now. I can give you a call in a few hours and let you know when we're finished, and then you can come back and visit."

"Call Pearson," Sophie instructed Lucas. "Tell him I'm not going to have any more data for him for at least the next 24 hours. If things with that situation come to a head today, tell him to bring Klein in on it."

"I'll take care of it," he promised. "You just play nicely with Dr. Smith."

* * *

When he re-entered Sickbay three hours later, it appeared to be empty except for Dr. Smith, who was sitting in her office with the door open. She saw him arrive and came out to meet him.

"Do you come bearing gifts?" Wendy teased, gesturing to the duffle bag over his shoulder.

"Sophie hates wearing hospital gowns," he explained. "I brought her some civvies. Where is she?"

"She's sleeping in one of the private rooms. She was barely awake long enough for me to finish running tests."

"Do you have the results yet?"

"Her MRI didn't show any bleeding in the brain, and her blood tests didn't show any acute problems. My best guess is that she's right and this is related to the psychic trance. Probably the concussion was more severe than I thought initially. Since she seemed to get better so quickly, I just assumed it was mild." Wendy sighed. "I wish Captain Sanati had warned me that this might happen. I would've kept a closer eye on her."

"Captain Sanati is apologetic, believe me." After he'd spoken to Pearson, he'd called the _Dauntless_ and given Sanati a piece of his mind. She really had felt badly about not warning him or Dr. Smith to watch Sophie for signs of a worsening concussion, although she'd pointed out with some asperity that Sophie herself had known full well what might happen and should have told them what was going on days ago. "How long are you going to keep Sophie?"

"At least another day. She admitted that she's been nauseated and hasn't had much to eat or drink other than coffee for the past day or two, so I've got her on IV fluids to rehydrate her along with medication for the nausea and the headache. I'd also be surprised if she's slept more than a few hours in the last several days. She's clearly exhausted."

"I know you said she's sleeping now, but do you mind if I check on her anyway?"

She smiled warmly. "Of course. She's in the first room on your left. I will warn you, though, that the medication I've got her on now is even more sedating than what she was taking before. You probably won't be able to wake her up even if you try, which I'd prefer you didn't do. She needs to sleep."

"I won't wake her," he promised, and disappeared into her room without a backward glance.

* * *

Sophie was fast asleep, oblivious to the noise of the door opening and his soft footsteps. He set the duffle bag he'd brought for her on the little table in the room, taking a seat in the chair by the bed. Her uninjured hand lay still at her side, an IV attached to her arm. Without conscious thought he took her hand in both of his, careful of the plastic tubing as he warmed her cold fingers between his palms. Seeing her in this setting reminded him of the weeks he'd spent sitting at her bedside when she'd been in a coma, bringing up memories he'd rather forget.

He forced himself to think about something else, and Zeta Team was the first topic that came to mind. She'd be sorry to have missed the end of the team's punishment session. They'd required several other sessions like this one in the past, and usually before she dismissed them she gave them a speech about the importance of teamwork that included vague allusions to whatever rule they'd broken and always seemed to motivate them to do better in the future. Lucas didn't have her flair for motivational speaking, and instead he'd given them a short lecture detailing exactly what they'd done wrong, both his team and the _seaQuest _crew, and how much worse the consequences would be if anything like this ever happened again.

He was pretty sure they'd all been too exhausted to listen anyway, after the grueling workout they'd been through, and the members of Zeta Team who weren't completely worn out were more worried about Sophie than anything else. He'd known that he would have to give some sort of explanation as to why Sophie wasn't there. He'd settled on just telling them that her condition had worsened and required re-admittance to Sickbay for an unknown length of time, and that he'd update them again when he knew more. They clearly hadn't been happy with that explanation, but he hadn't really had much to offer them at that point. He'd make sure to let Jovasti know tonight that she'd probably be released in the next few days. The team was going to want to visit her, although he'd make them wait if Dr. Smith wanted Sophie to remain undisturbed.

The bag he'd brought her didn't contain a uniform, which was his own subtle way of reminding her that she was off-duty until further notice. It held enough comfortable clothes to last her a solid week, several pairs of warm socks, and a little case containing some of Sophie's favorite vids. He'd included her comset and her emergency beacon for his own peace of mind, but had left out all forms of weaponry. He was firmly against her doing anything work-related while she was in Sickbay and had intentionally not brought her laptop, which he knew contained several months' worth of intelligence reports from her contacts around the globe. Pearson seemed confident that he could handle whatever the current crisis was without Sophie's help, so she was going to be taking an enforced vacation from her ISD responsibilities whether she liked it or not.

Her duffle now also held the mini-reader he'd bought for himself last year. He hadn't used it in over a month, since he hadn't exactly had time for light reading lately, but it had been sitting out on one of the counters in the lab and had been fully charged, so he'd tossed it into the bag. If her vision was blurry from the concussion, she might not be able to use it, but it was loaded with a bunch of his favorite books and it would give her something to do if she got bored with watching vids. He pulled the handheld device out now, flicking the switch to the 'on' position and watching as the little blue screen powered up. He was going to change the brightness settings and make the font bigger; it would be easier on her eyes that way, and him doing it now would save her from having to figure out how to do it herself later if she wanted to read.

It opened automatically to the last page he'd read, and after skimming it he remembered with a start of surprise that he'd started re-reading this book but had never actually finished. His finger hesitated over the button that would change the font size, and he glanced over at Sophie again. She was still sound asleep, completely undisturbed by his presence, and he decided it wouldn't hurt for him to stick around a little longer. He didn't have anything to do tonight that couldn't wait until tomorrow, and there certainly wasn't anywhere he'd rather be.

Lucas leaned back in the chair and swung his legs up, propping his boots on the edge of her bed in a casual gesture that would have annoyed her to no end if she'd been awake to see it. He kept one of his hands on hers as he turned his attention to the mini-reader, sinking back into the storyline with a minimum of effort. He lost himself in the trials and tribulations of Tolkien's hobbits for a while, until one line in particular stood out at him.

_I think we had better not move out from here again, until it has gone quite dark._

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured into the quiet stillness of the room, giving Sophie's fingers a gentle squeeze. She didn't stir, but in the dim light he could have sworn he saw the corners of her mouth turn up in a little smile. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek and savoring the moment. The last time he'd sat with her like this, she'd been in a coma and he'd been overwhelmed with guilt and the fear of losing her. Now she was injured again, but there was every reason to believe that she would recover, and he could actually enjoy spending a few stolen minutes by her side while she slept.

He felt a smile tug at his own lips, and settled back in the chair again as he returned his attention to the book.


	45. Chapter 45

A/N: My apologies for the very long wait. If it's any compensation, this one is quite long.

* * *

052. Alternate: I was awake early this morning, and now it must be nearly noon.

* * *

It was nearly 2300 hours when Lucas finally finished compiling the intelligence report he'd been working on for Admiral Lowry. He glanced at his watch and frowned, irritated with himself. He'd meant to take a break hours ago and go to Sickbay to check on Sophie, but he'd lost track of time.

He encrypted the report and emailed it to Lowry, then shut down his laptop. After a long moment of contemplation, he picked up the duffle he'd set by the door and then left his lab, heading for Sickbay. He didn't run into anyone on the way, so he had plenty of time to contemplate whether his plan for tonight was really a good idea. Eventually he decided that if Sophie didn't seem to be feeling better, he'd just take the bag back to the lab when he left and not reveal its contents to her.

The door to her room in Sickbay was ajar, and he knocked lightly as he stuck his head in, checking to see if she was awake. She was, although she clearly hadn't been awake for very long, and she gave him a sleepy smile.

"Hey."

"Hey. Can I come in?"

"Of course," she told him, and he stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind him.

"How are you feeling?"

She stretched a little, the movement almost decadently lazy. "Better."

"More specifically?" he requested, and she shrugged.

"My vision's still a little blurry. If I stand up for very long, the headache comes back, and I'm still unsteady on my feet, but overall I feel pretty good."

"Have you been asleep all day?"

"Most of the day," she admitted. "The team stopped by this morning. At least, I think it was this morning."

"Hard to keep track with no windows," he agreed, and her lips quirked in a smile.

"And no watch," she pointed out. He glanced at her wrist with surprise; Sophie always wore a watch. "Dr. Smith had me take it off for the MRI," she added when she saw his confusion. "I put it in the pocket of my uniform, and then you took my uniform."

He'd taken the clothes she'd been wearing yesterday when he'd brought her civilian clothes to Sickbay for her, but she hadn't been awake to tell him about the watch. "I can bring you your watch," he offered, "but you can't have the uniform until Dr. Smith releases you."

"Tyrant," she accused, but her smile didn't waver, and he found himself smiling in return. As ill as she'd looked yesterday, he hadn't been sure she'd be feeling well enough to joke with him today. "What's wrong, Lucas?"

"Nothing."

She gave him an amused look, seeing right through the lie, and he shook his head in resignation.

"Okay. I...I brought something with me."

"I actually guessed that from the bag you're carrying," she replied, glancing at the duffle over his shoulder. "Is it for me?"

"Sort of?"

His inflection turned it into a question, and she made a face.

"Are you this infuriating on purpose?"

"Sometimes," he admitted truthfully. "Not right now, though."

His 'sometimes' had startled a laugh out of her, and now she studied him with eyes that sparkled with good humor.

"I love you," she told him, and had the satisfaction of seeing startled delight flash across his face. She didn't make spontaneous declarations of love, as a general rule, but he just looked too cute right now to resist.

"I love you too," he replied with a grin. "Dr. Smith must be giving you the good drugs, huh?"

"Really good drugs," she said, her tone conspiratorial. "I think that over the past week, I actually managed to forget how it feels to not be in pain. Now that the pain is gone, it's put me in kind of a weird mood."

"I like the weird mood," he assured her. "I haven't seen you this relaxed in a while. It looks good on you."

"And yet, you seem even more tense than you were yesterday," she pointed out. "I'd be happy to share the drugs with you."

"I'll pass, thanks."

"Are you ever going to tell me what's in the bag?"

He hesitated for a moment, but her whimsical mood convinced him that she'd probably be receptive to his plan. He reached into the bag he carried and produced a small device that he held up for her inspection. It was the signal scrambler he'd invented, and he handed it solemnly to her. She took it, toying with the little square thoughtfully, and slowly a smile spread across her face.

"Is there a maglock in there, too?"

He nodded silently and her smile became a full-fledged grin. She'd surprised him just like this once when he'd been in Medbay back at ISD headquarters, with a signal scrambler to keep them from being overheard and a magnetic lock to keep the staff from interrupting them. That had been the first time they'd ever made love.

With an exaggerated gesture he couldn't miss, she flipped the switch on the scrambler, turning it on. "The door won't lock itself," she informed him, and watched as he went over to the door and set the device in place, then activated it. When he turned back around to face her, her breath caught in her throat at the unguarded tenderness in his expression.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked, and she smiled.

"I'm definitely up for it," she replied, in a tone that suggested she knew he was second-guessing himself. "Come here."

He came over to the bed, taking her outstretched hand and bringing it to his lips. She gave a little hum of pleasure as his mouth moved from the back of her hand to her wrist, slowly kissing his way up her arm.

"Have I mentioned that I love you?" she murmured, and he smiled against the crook of her elbow.

"I'm always happy to hear you mention it again."

"I love you," she repeated indulgently, then cut herself off with a soft moan as his lips brushed a sensitive spot. He pressed another kiss to her arm before pulling back far enough to catch her gaze.

"You know, I bet you're pretty tired."

Sophie was surprised by the non sequitur, and the expectant look on his face gave her pause. It took her an embarrassingly long time to figure out where he was going with that comment, but when she did, a smile stole across her face.

"I guess I am a little tired. I probably shouldn't do anything to exert myself," she replied finally, her tone mischievous, and he grinned at her.

"Then for once in your life, I guess you're going to have to let someone else do all the work."

They were the exact words she'd said to him that first time, when their roles had been reversed, and they shared a smile as he leaned down to kiss her again.

* * *

_The Bridge_

It was the tail end of third shift, nearly time for the crew on first shift to arrive. Lucas had come up to the bridge a little early to get a head start on a system diagnostic on the navigation console, but he was having trouble focusing on his work. It was hard to pay attention to the rows of code on the screen when his mind kept replaying the memory of last night with Sophie. The sex between them was always good, but last night had been special. It was like their first time all over again, except that he'd been the one to devote all of his efforts to pleasing her, instead of the other way around. It had gone even better than he'd hoped, and he couldn't seem to think about anything else. How was he supposed to concentrate when he could still feel her body pressed against his? The system diagnostic he was supposed to be running was far less important to him than the memory of Sophie arching beneath him, his name on her lips as their lovemaking reached its peak -

"Commander Wolenczak?"

The irritation in Tim's voice suggested this wasn't the first time he'd tried to get Lucas's attention, and he looked up guiltily as he dragged his attention back to the present.

"Yes?"

"There's an incoming secure transmission that's been marked for Commander Sutton."

"I'll take it at this station," he replied, turning on the console's little vidscreen. He wasn't surprised to see Jack Pearson appear on the screen a moment later.

"Hey, Jack. How's your mysterious intelligence problem coming?"

"I need to talk to Sutton."

"She's still in Sickbay."

"Then get her out of Sickbay," Pearson insisted, and Lucas barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes at the other man's casual disregard for Sophie's well-being. He had trouble deciding if most ISD personnel considered their colleagues to be acceptable collateral damage, or if they were all just certain that they were invincible.

"Not for another week."

"You don't understand -"

"_You _don't understand," Lucas retorted. "She's in Sickbay because she's sick. The rest of us should be able to keep the war going without her for at least a week."

"We think the Macs are going to try to take a UEO ship."

That got his attention. "Which one?"

"We don't know."

Lucas snorted. "That's incredibly unhelpful. Do you know how many Navy vessels there are in service right now?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Pearson shot back. "That's why I need Sutton's help. We need a risk stratification analysis to determine which ships are at the highest risk for an attempted boarding."

"She's not up to it."

"That's her decision to make. She's the senior intel officer aboard _seaQuest _-"

"- and she's officially been relieved of duty for medical reasons, which makes me the senior, and I'm telling you no. She already tried going back to work too soon and it earned her another admission to Sickbay. None of this is as important as her health, Jack. I won't let her kill herself trying to singlehandedly win the war, and I won't let you kill her either."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lucas."

"I've already discussed it with Lowry." He'd called the admiral yesterday to get extra leverage in case Sophie decided to try and get around him and Dr. Smith and go back on duty before she was medically cleared, and he'd been pleasantly surprised by how strongly Lowry had supported his request to put her on medical leave. Sophie had always denied that Lowry showed any special preference for her, but it was obvious to him that she was the admiral's favorite. Lucas was grateful for it, since having Lowry invested in Sophie's survival made it much easier to take care of her when she needed it. "He said if your on-site MCs can't take care of the problem, you can bring it directly to him, but Sophie's out of commission for seven more days. No negotiation."

Pearson clearly wasn't happy about that, but once Lucas had played that trump card, there wasn't much he could do about it. If Pearson took the problem to Lowry, he was guaranteed some unpleasant fallout from the rest of the MCs for going over their heads.

"Will you at least tell her what's going on?" Pearson asked finally, and Lucas sighed.

"I will," he agreed. He waited until Pearson cut the connection and the screen reverted to black to add, "Next week."

The sound of a snicker drew his attention to the station next to his, where Miguel was smirking at him. He sobered quickly when he realized Lucas was watching him.

"Something amusing?" Lucas asked, quietly enough that Miguel decided he wasn't trying to get him in trouble for eavesdropping.

"I'm impressed," he replied, his voice equally soft to keep from being overheard by the rest of the bridge crew. "You and Sutton really take care of each other, huh?"

"We're partners," Lucas replied with a shrug. "It's what we do."

"It's nice," Miguel said decisively. Lucas smiled a little, and might have said something more if the intruder alert hadn't picked that moment to go off.

* * *

_The Mess Hall_

Jonathan Ford was sitting at a table in the mess hall with the captain, the two of them talking about the likely effects of the new UEO trade agreement with the North Sea Confederation, when the intruder alert went off. The two of them got to their feet almost as quickly as the small cluster of ISD personnel, who were sitting at a table across the room. All of them headed for the door, but it opened just before Chief Wallace reached it and seven men in black jumpsuits entered, carrying laser rifles aimed at the crew inside.

Ford was close enough to Laughlin to hear her mutter something rude under her breath, and all of them put their hands up at the behest of the intruders. He was a little surprised that Wallace and his teammates hadn't tried to fight, but maybe they were worried about the safety of the rest of the crew. This was one of the busiest times of day in the mess hall, just before first shift, and the mess hall was full of crew members grabbing breakfast or coffee before the start of their shift. No matter how good the ISD team was, the intruders would get off at least a couple of shots before they were taken down, and Ford didn't doubt that there would be injuries and maybe even casualties among the crew.

"All right, people," the man in front said, his rifle pointed in the general direction of the ISD team. "Everyone on their knees. Keep your hands up."

Bridger and Ford complied, although it rankled both of them to do it, and judging by the expression on Kennedy's face he wasn't any happier about it than they were.

"Listen to me carefully," the man continued, his eyes scanning the room. He didn't seem to find what he was looking for, because he frowned and turned his attention back to the now-kneeling _seaQuest _crew members. "I don't have any interest in killing any of you, but if I have to, I will. I'm looking for Captain Bridger, Commander Sutton, and Commander Wolenczak. At least one of you knows where they are. Speak up and I'll make sure you live."

Bridger felt Ford's hand clamp down on his arm and resisted the urge to smile despite the dire situation. His XO knew him far too well.

"Stay out of this, Jonathan," he whispered to Ford, shaking off the other man's restraining hand. "That's an order."

"Captain!" Ford hissed, but Bridger was already getting to his feet, keeping his hands where their captors could see them.

"I'm Captain Bridger," he said, as calmly as if he'd been introducing himself to visiting UEO dignitaries. "I didn't catch your name."

"My name is unimportant," the ringleader replied, and Bridger shrugged.

"All right. If you'd wanted to speak with me, Mr. Unimportant, you could have just called."

The intruder actually cracked a smile at that. "It's Baxter," he admitted, and Ford shook his head silently. There was something indefinable about the captain's demeanor that took people off of their guard and put them at ease. He'd seen it work with politicians, admirals, and nervous young officers, but this was the first time he'd seen Bridger use his magic on an enemy soldier.

"Mr. Baxter," Bridger corrected himself, giving Baxter a slight nod in acknowledgment. "What's brought you to my boat and put you in the position of having to threaten my crew?"

Baxter straightened a little, responding unconsciously to Bridger's tone. The captain sounded sympathetic but firm, without any hint of fear or anger, as he played on the concern that Baxter had already expressed for the crew by offering to let them live if they cooperated. The technique could have backfired, if Baxter had been lying, but Bridger was an excellent judge of character and his instincts were telling him that Baxter didn't particularly want to be in this situation.

"My boss needs to speak with Wolenczak and Sutton," Baxter replied slowly. "And you're going to give us the missile launch codes for _seaQuest_. Give us Wolenczak, Sutton, and the codes, and you have my word that none of your people will be harmed."

Bridger made a thoughtful noise, taking a few steps to the side and giving the impression that he was pacing in concentration, although Ford noted that the direction he chose to move took the intruders' gazes a little bit further from the crew and the ISD team.

"I'm afraid I may not be able to help you, Mr. Baxter," Bridger said finally, giving every appearance of regret. "You see, I consider Wolenczak and Sutton to be part of my crew, and I suspect your boss would like to do more than just talk to them. I won't be a party to anything that would harm either one of them. As for the launch codes…" He shrugged. "I'd be betraying my own government if I gave you those. I'm sure you can see what a difficult position that would put me in."

"Your position will be more difficult if I have to start killing your crew members," Baxter began, but Bridger's distraction had paid off, and even as Baxter spoke, the members of the ISD team, still and silent until now, made their move.

* * *

_Sickbay_

Sophie woke abruptly, the shrill sound of an alarm piercing the pleasant fog of sleep that surrounded her. It took her a few moments to place the sound; each of the shipboard alarms was subtly different, and it took longer than she'd care to admit for her to recognize the intruder alert.

Once she did, she was moving, disconnecting her IV tubing with clumsy fingers as she slid off of the diagnostic bed. The gun Laughlin had brought her was under the pillow, and she stuck it into the waistband of her yoga pants. She reached out to grab her comset from the bedside table, cursing under her breath when she realized that there were two comsets there. Lucas must have left his behind last night, she realized, and she hooked his into place over her other ear for a lack of anywhere better to put it, although she left it turned off so that she'd still have one ear listening to what was going on around her.

Both comsets in place, she keyed the door open and stepped out into the main area of Sickbay. She'd expected to find Dr. Smith, or at least a member of the medical staff, but Sickbay appeared to be deserted except for her.

"What's going on?"

Except for her and Jones, she realized, turning to face the man who'd instigated the fight in the mess hall. Like her, he was being kept in Sickbay for monitoring of his injuries. It had been several days since the fight, but his bruises were still impressive, and his right hand was ensconced in a brace very similar to the one on her own right hand.

"Intruder alert," she replied shortly, activating her comset and flipping the mic down. "Zeta Team, report locations."

"Jovasti, crew quarters," came her chief's familiar voice after a moment's pause, giving his ID and current location.

"Kelson and Graham, crew quarters," Kelson added.

"Demarin, Hallifeld, and Lightman, sparring gym."

They all waited a long moment, but no one else chimed in. Either the others were off com or they weren't in a position where they could answer. Since their first responsibility if they were able would have been to put in their comsets and give their locations, Sophie had to assume that the rest were either fighting the intruders or had already been captured.

"Last known locations for the rest of the team," she demanded.

"Wallace went to the mess hall," Jovasti offered immediately.

"We saw everyone else except Jezek there twenty minutes ago," Demarin confirmed.

"Jezek was going to talk to Commander Hitchcock about some engineering issue this morning; that's probably where she is," Hallifeld added.

There was a click that indicated another member of the team had activated their com on the open channel, and then Jezek's breathless voice joined them.

"Jezek, in Engineering," she said hurriedly. "What'd I miss?"

"Roll call," Sophie replied shortly. "Does anyone have a location on Wolenczak?"

There was a moment of silence. "He was going to Sickbay last night," Jovasti ventured finally, but Hallifeld dissented.

"He was headed for the bridge an hour ago," she said, and Sophie bit her lip to keep an expletive from slipping out. If he was on the bridge, he was guaranteed to be in danger.

"All right, people. If there are intruders, they're headed for the bridge and Engineering first." She considered the situation quickly. Sickbay was directly beneath the bridge, one level down. The crew quarters and sparring gym were both on the other side of the boat, near Engineering, and there was no way of knowing how many intruders might stand between her teammates and the bridge. She and Brody had discussed scenarios like this before, and their plan had been for Security to seal the docking bays and clear the boat level by level, while Zeta Team protected the high-risk targets like the bridge and Engineering.

"Demarin, Lightman, and Hallifeld, get armed and get to Engineering. Jezek, you're stuck there; keep the crew calm and let them know help is on the way. Jovasti, Kelson, Graham, go to the mess hall and see if the others are there. Go heavily armed; if they're there and they aren't answering, it's because they're in trouble. Once you've found them, join Security in figuring out how the intruders got in and making sure they can't get out that way."

"And the bridge, Commander?"

"By the time any of you get to the bridge, they'll have already breached the seals and taken it by force. If you find the rest of the team, send two of them to the bridge to do recon - _only _recon, no attempts to take the bridge with a frontal assault. I won't risk getting the entire bridge crew killed in a shootout. Have them report in as soon as they know how many of the enemy are guarding the bridge hatch, and everyone keep your coms on."

"If we aren't going to stage a frontal assault, how are we retaking the bridge?" Jovasti asked. Sophie didn't hesitate, stripping the brace from her injured hand as her gaze fell on the medication cabinet on the other side of the room.

"Leave that to me."

* * *

_The Bridge_

Lucas's first move had been to activate his comset to reach the rest of Zeta Team. Unfortunately, his comset wasn't over his ear, and he realized with a sinking feeling that he must have left it in Sickbay last night.

"I'm broadcasting a distress signal -" Tim started to say, but Lucas cut him off.

"Forget the distress signal. Just get Pearson from ISD back on the line," he ordered Tim, fingers flying over the keyboard at his station as he locked down the computer subroutines. "I've almost got the mainframe shut down."

"Aye, sir," Tim replied automatically, and a moment later Pearson was on the main bridge vidscreen, looking irritated.

"What now?"

"It's us," Lucas said, his eyes still fixed on his console as he worked at an almost preternatural speed. "We're the target. _seaQuest _has been boarded."

"You'll have reinforcements as soon as I can get them to you," Pearson promised. Lucas looked up long enough to give him a quick nod, and then the call disconnected.

"Communications have been jammed," Tim reported, typing furiously at his own station. I'm trying to get through -"

"Don't bother." Lucas hit 'enter', then stepped away from his console as every station on the bridge went dark. The intruder alert cut off abruptly, the silence startling after the high-pitched shriek of the alarm, and the overhead lights went to half strength. "We're down to life support and mechanical hatch seals only. I cut off everything else."

"You jammed our communications?" Tim demanded, and Lucas shrugged.

"It's SOP," he replied. "We can't get anything out, but neither can they. The UEO already knows we need reinforcements, and if we keep the distress signal broadcasting then every Macronesian ship in the area will know exactly where we are."

There was a loud, repetitive banging noise from outside the hatch, and Miguel turned to Lucas.

"Tell me that isn't what I think it is."

"They're cracking the hatch seals." Lucas was carrying his XE-8, but if the intruders had enough manpower to crack the seals on the bridge doors, they would certainly have enough firepower to outgun his semiautomatic pistol. He removed pistol and holster from his hip and slid back the access panel on the navigation console, shoving the gun in where it would be hidden from a casual search.

"You don't think you'll want that?" Miguel hissed to him, and Lucas shook his head.

"I'm not starting a firefight I can't win, especially with all of you unarmed and unprotected," Lucas replied, far more calmly than Miguel would have expected given the situation. "I want you to stay at this station. If the time comes when one well-placed shot might make a difference, use the gun, but don't do it unless you're sure. Getting yourself killed won't help anything."

"Why can't you stay at this station?" Miguel demanded. "I'm sure you're a better shot than I am."

Lucas sighed. "They're probably Macronesian Intelligence, which means they'll know who I am, and they aren't going to let me just stand here. This is going to be unpleasant for me." Ignoring the look of shock on Miguel's face, he raised his voice enough that the bridge crew could hear him over the sound of the power tools being used on the outside of the hatch. "All right, people, we have to assume that we are about to be outmanned and outgunned. Focus on staying alive long enough for Zeta Team or Security to get here and help us. Don't provoke the intruders and don't resist. Cooperate with their demands. That's an order."

He met Tim's gaze and the other man gave him a small nod. Even though Tim was technically the senior bridge officer - Lucas, being assigned to ISD, wasn't part of the boat's chain of command - he was smart enough to know when to defer to Lucas, who'd had infinitely more experience with this sort of thing.

And then the hatch groaned open, the mechanism overwhelmed by brute force, and there was no more time for discussion.

* * *

_Sickbay_

"What are you doing?" Jones demanded as Sophie pulled out her gun and smashed the grip against the locked cabinet door, breaking the glass. She ignored him, reaching in through the hole to withdraw several vials of medication. "You can't do that!"

"I just did," she pointed out, grabbing a couple of clean syringes and drawing up medication from each of the vials one at a time, then systematically injecting each one into the IV port still attached to the back of her hand. She flushed the port with a syringe full of sterile saline, waiting for the pain to start.

"What are you doing?" Jones demanded again, and she sighed.

"Something reckless," she replied candidly. "Sickbay is sealed automatically when the intruder alert goes off, the same as the bridge and Engineering, and it's not a high-priority tactical target. You'll be fine here unless you open the doors from the inside, which I don't recommend unless you're sure it's our people on the other side."

"Me? What about you?"

The pain was returning, a warning ache starting in her hand and behind her eyes, but her clarity was starting to come back too, and the fingers of her good hand were far less clumsy than they'd been scant moments ago.

"I have work to do."

* * *

_The Bridge_

There were eight intruders on the bridge, all clad in black jumpsuits without any sort of visible identification and all carrying laser rifles. Lucas was the first person they saw when they entered the bridge, standing near the hatch with his arms folded across his chest and a bored expression on his face. He managed to keep that façade in place until two of the men in back stepped aside, letting the only woman in the group move forward enough that he could see her clearly.

"Lucas."

His jaw dropped and he gaped at her for a long moment. "Juliana," he said finally, floored. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?" she snapped, and one of the men in front thumped her shoulder with the butt of his rifle. It wasn't exactly a friendly gesture, and it didn't bode well for Lucas; if they treated their own people so roughly, they probably weren't going to be gentle with him.

"He's the ISD agent?"

"He is," she confirmed, glaring at Lucas, and the man nodded.

"Fine. Now stop talking and get to work," he ordered her. "We need the computers up and running. I'll take care of your friend."

Juliana moved to the weapons station, and Lucas stared after her blankly. He'd had no idea that Juliana was working for the Macronesians.

"Excuse me." The man who'd ordered Juliana to get to work was now standing in front of Lucas, eyebrows raised at Lucas's lack of response to the rest of the intruders, and he gestured for another of his men to come behind Lucas. "Whenever you're finished eyeing the admittedly lovely Ms. Koskoff, I'd like a word."

Lucas allowed the lackey behind him to pin his arms, knowing that fighting back now while he was outnumbered would be suicidal, but he took his time turning his attention to the group's ringleader, doing his best to appear unimpressed. It was a trick he'd learned from Sophie, feigned disinterest in the face of near-certain death, and it was usually pretty effective in unnerving an opponent. It didn't seem to be working with the man in front of him, however, who looked more amused than anything.

"You must be Wolenczak." He offered Lucas an insincere smile. "Nate Tomlinson. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"I'd shake your hand, but…" Lucas shrugged as best he could, considering his arms were currently being held behind his back by one of Tomlinson's men.

"Don't worry about it. In this job, the niceties are the first thing to go."

Without warning, Tomlinson threw a right cross, catching Lucas on the jaw and knocking his head back. Lucas shook his head a little, a thin trickle of blood trailing from his lower lip. "You hit like a girl," he taunted, and Tim winced. What had happened to 'don't provoke them'?

"If you're Wolenczak," he said, punching Lucas in the stomach in a gesture that was almost casual, "then where's Sutton?"

"Who?"

"You know who I'm talking about." He backhanded Lucas across the face, snapping his head to the side. "The blonde bitch." Another blow to the face, this one opening a cut across Lucas's cheekbone. "Lowry's pretty little pet. Where is she?"

"I don't know why you're bothering with this." Lucas spat a mouthful of blood onto Tomlinson's boot, sounding more irritated than anything. "You know I won't talk."

"Everyone talks eventually, Wolenczak," Tomlinson contradicted him, glancing down at his bloody boot with distaste and then bringing his foot up to kick Lucas in the stomach. Lucas grunted, pain flashing across his face, and Tomlinson grinned. "It's just a matter of finding the right method of persuasion. Denner, strip him."

Denner, the man restraining Lucas, reached forward to unzip the top of his captive's uniform jumpsuit and stripped him to the waist. Tim bit his lip, wanting desperately to _do _something, anything, but Lucas had been right when he'd said that resisting the intruders would only get them killed. He looked over at Miguel, who was still standing at the navigation console where Lucas had left his gun, watching the proceedings tensely. If the other intruders had been distracted, maybe Miguel could have made a move for the gun, but only Juliana and the two with Lucas were paying any attention to the drama unfolding by the hatch. The rest of them had spread out through the room and were watching the bridge crew with their rifles at the ready, ignoring Lucas and his captors as though they witnessed this sort of torture every day. Maybe they did.

Denner had forced the now bare-chested Lucas to his knees, and Tomlinson leaned back against the wall, fiddling with a device he'd pulled out of a holster on his belt. It wasn't quite the right shape to be a gun, but Tim didn't know what it was until the man aimed it at Lucas and fired. The younger man's head snapped back, his back arching sharply as the crackling sound of electricity filled the bridge, and Tim shot Miguel a helpless look.

"Tell me where Sutton is and I'll stop," Tomlinson enticed Lucas. "I'd much rather be talking to her than to you."

"Why?" Lucas managed to ask, his breath coming in sharp gasps that he tried and failed to conceal.

"General Stassi would like to speak with her." He gave Lucas a vicious smile. "All friendly-like, of course."

Lucas replied with a suggestion of what Stassi could do with his request, which Tim didn't think wasn't actually anatomically possible although it did show real creativity on his friend's part. Tomlinson's smile widened and he put the stun gun to Lucas's bare chest again, pulling the trigger with more force than was strictly necessary.

* * *

_The Mess Hall_

Retaking the mess hall was a short, brutal fight. Bridger's nonviolent response to Baxter had led the other intruders to lower their guards, which made them laughably easy targets for Wallace and his people. Less than a minute later, there were seven dead intruders on the deck of the mess hall, Baxter included, and the ISD team members had secured the enemy's guns and looked quite pleased with themselves.

"It might've been helpful to leave at least one of them alive," Ford observed aloud. He was the first of the _seaQuest _crew to shake off his shock at what had just happened, and he got to his feet slowly.

Wallace nodded, surveying the bodies with a vaguely disappointed air. "It probably would've been, sir," he agreed. "Commander Sutton likes to have someone to question when the dust settles, but our default orders in a hostage situation are to eliminate the threat while maximizing the safety of the hostages."

"I'd say they're pretty well eliminated," Ford agreed. Bridger was giving the entire ISD team a disapproving look, to which Kennedy responded with a smile.

"It's a pleasure to watch you work, sir," Kennedy told Bridger. "You do 'concerned sincerity' as well as Commander Wolenczak does."

"That's probably where the commander learned it," Wallace pointed out. Bridger was watching the two of them, looking surprised. Maybe he'd never been on the receiving end of a Wolenczak manipulation. Their technical genius of a CO wasn't the accomplished liar that Sutton was, but when he put on his earnest face, it was hard for anyone, friend or enemy, not to believe him.

Wallace turned away from the two of them, reaching up to put in his comset and check in with the rest of the team.

"This is Wallace, in the mess hall."

There was a split second of silence, and then Jovasti's voice was in his ear.

"Are you being held hostage?"

"Well, we were," Wallace replied. "It's taken care of now."

The door to the mess hall slid open, and Wallace shook his head in amusement as Jovasti, Kelson, Graham, Lightman, Demarin, and Hallifeld entered the room, all carrying automatic weapons.

"You would've had fantastic timing about thirty seconds ago," Wallace ribbed them, pushing his mic away from his mouth so that he wasn't transmitting to the members of the team who weren't in the room. "Instead, you missed all of the fun."

"Just be grateful that we didn't have to rescue you," Jovasti shot back. "We would have never let you live it down." He glanced around the room, assessing the situation quickly.

"We need to get to the bridge," the captain said, interrupting Jovasti's train of thought, and he gave Bridger a surprised look.

"Per Commander Sutton, sir, it's likely that the bridge has already been taken. We'll be sending a team to recon the situation, but I'd ask that you remain here until we know the situation."

"We're not supposed to get ranking officers killed," Wallace agreed. "At least, not without specific orders to that effect."

Jovasti looked over at the team, which had consolidated around the bodies of the intruders.

"Laughlin, you and Graham go and recon the bridge. I want both of you to remember Sutton's orders: no attempts to retake the bridge. Recon only. Lightman, Martinez, I want you two to stay here with the crew members here in the mess hall. I'd hate for us to have to retake it again. The rest of us are going to Engineering."

"Wonder if there's still breakfast available," Lightman mused to Martinez as the rest of the team prepared to leave, and she glared at him.

"Seriously? You're hungry now?"

"What? I was awake early this morning, and now it must be nearly noon."

Martinez checked her watch, then rolled her eyes. "It's oh-eight-thirty, Lightman."

"Close enough."

* * *

_Ventilation Shaft 16-B_

Every nerve in her body was screaming in protest, every muscle in active rebellion at the torture she was subjecting herself to. Sophie ignored the pain as best she could, trying to focus on what she was doing. Her skin was slick with sweat and her bare feet slipped a little on the side of the ventilation shaft as she continued her slow climb, making a foolhardy plan even more dangerous.

It hadn't been difficult to get into the vent shaft; it ran from A deck to D deck, through both Sickbay and the bridge. She'd simply removed the grating from the horizontal shaft access in Sickbay and crawled in. Climbing the vertical shaft was another story; the sides of the shaft were flat, with nothing to use as handholds, and she didn't have any ropes or climbing gear. Instead, the maglock Lucas had used to shut the two of them away from the rest of the world last night was now being used in a way Pearson had never intended when he'd designed it. Maglocks came apart into two halves, each with a powerful magnet on one side that could be activated at will and a handle on the other side. She currently had one hand wrapped around each handle and the magnets locked onto the side of the shaft. Carefully, she disengaged one of the magnets, bracing herself with her feet and her other hand as she reached up as high as she could, then reactivated the magnet and pulled herself up a few painstaking inches. Once she was relatively stable in that position, she disengaged the other magnet and repeated the process with the other hand.

She'd only been climbing for a few minutes, but her broken fingers throbbed with indescribable agony. Over the years, Sophie had been subjected to nearly every kind of injury there was, but this experience was probably one of the most painful. _Definitely top three_, she decided as she continued to climb. Her right pinky finger had gone suddenly numb a few moments ago, and although she'd welcomed the slight decrease in pain, she suspected she might have done permanent damage to that finger. Dr. Smith would be upset with her, but there was no way she would have been able to climb if she'd kept the brace on her hand. Her partner would be absolutely furious, but if their teammates had tried to take the bridge by force, it was likely they all would have been killed, and the bridge crew might have died in the bargain as well. If the price of saving her partner and keeping the rest of the team alive was a little nerve damage and some intense but temporary pain, she would pay it without complaint.

She pushed on, every inch a hard-won victory as she moved closer and closer to her goal.

* * *

_Forward Stairwell, B Deck_

"There are three armed guards in front of the stairwell on A deck," Laughlin reported quietly, from their hiding place on B deck. "All alert, all watching the stairs. If we tried to go up the stairs, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel. We could toss a grenade up there, maybe, but whoever threw it would be an easy target for them before it exploded."

"Yeah, and if it destroyed the stairwell, we'd be screwed," Graham pointed out, far less happy than he usually was at the suggestion that something might get blown up.

"With the mainframe down, the maglev won't operate," Jezek informed all of them over the comsets. "And since the intruder alert went off, the emergency hatch between the forward and aft stairs on A deck will be sealed. The forward stairwell is the only way up to the bridge without the use of heavy equipment we don't have."

There was one other way, but none of them were going to mention it now. They wouldn't risk it being overheard while Sutton was actually doing it.

"They're breaking through the hatch seals here," Jezek reported suddenly, and Wallace nodded although he knew she couldn't see him.

"We're thirty seconds out," he told her. "We've switched to immobilizing rounds."

That would keep any stray bullets from killing any of the crew in Engineering, and it would also allow them to take some of the intruders prisoner rather than killing them all.

"All I have is live rounds, so don't get caught in the crossfire," Jezek warned them.

"Friendly fire isn't," Wallace agreed, quoting one of Wolenczak's favorite adages. "Stay alive and we'll see you in a few."

* * *

_The Bridge_

Things were not going well for Tomlinson's team on the bridge. Lucas took a distant pride in Juliana's rising frustration as she tried and failed to break through the encrypted lockout he'd placed on the bridge controls. Pointing out her failure to Tomlinson had earned him another shock, which had left him reeling, but it had been worth it to see Tomlinson's self-control continue to erode. Juliana had never worked well under pressure, so the more Tomlinson harassed Juliana, the slower she was going to work, and every second he added to the amount of time it took her to break his code was another second he gave to Zeta Team to figure out a way to save him and the bridge crew.

Unfortunately, when Tomlinson wasn't harassing Juliana, he was busy trying to break Lucas. He hadn't been all that impressed by Tomlinson's efforts, though. It might have been his imagination, fueled by multiple jolts from Tomlinson's stun gun, but Tomlinson just didn't seem to be trying that hard. A bare-fisted beating followed by a few shocks from a handheld electrical device wasn't exactly the kind of intense torture session that kept ISD agents up at night. If Sophie had been the one conducting this interrogation, by now she would either have cut off a few of his toes or she'd have figured out which of the bridge crew he liked best and started torturing them instead, hoping to draw him out that way.

It had already occurred to him that his perception of what constituted a decent interrogation might have been permanently skewed by his association with Sophie.

Right now, Tomlinson was yelling at Juliana again, which meant Lucas had a little breathing room. Tim and Miguel were both at stations behind him, and he wasn't exactly able to turn around and check on them, but he could see Henderson from where he knelt. She looked completely shellshocked, and he reminded himself that she'd probably never witnessed anything more violent than a bar fight. She certainly hadn't had the advantage of working for ISD for five years.

Lonnie met his gaze, and he tried to give her a reassuring smile. The movement tugged at his split lip, and it didn't seem to do much to reassure Lonnie, who still looked like a deer in the headlights.

"It's a multilayered encryption code! I can't just crack it in fifteen minutes!"

"Don't tell me he's better than you," Tomlinson said to Juliana with a sneer, and she shot him a venomous glare.

"He isn't better than me!" she snapped, typing furiously. "I just need more time."

"You're out of time, Koskoff! This mission is running on a schedule!"

"Oh, yeah?" Juliana shot back, flipping her hair over her shoulder in a gesture of defiance. "Maybe I don't have the codes yet, but I don't see Sutton here either!"

"We'll find Sutton," he snapped, and Juliana gave him a disdainful look.

"You think so? Tell me, who do you think Stassi will be more upset with? Me, for not being able to crack the code of the best programmer in the UEO, or _you_, for not bringing him the _one_ thing he actually _cared _about?"

Lucas felt his throat tighten as he realized that Juliana had finally gone too far. She realized it a moment after he did, but it was a moment too late. For all of Tomlinson's faults, he was a quick draw, and before Juliana had time to process the fact that his rifle was pointed at her, he'd already pulled the trigger.

Lucas turned his head away as Juliana fell, her eyes wide with shock and a gaping hole in her chest. Laser rifles were nasty even at low settings, and Tomlinson's was turned all the way up. It would be a miracle if Juliana survived, and this hadn't exactly been a day of miracles so far.

"Enough playing around," Tomlinson snarled, turning his attention back to Lucas. The butt of Tomlinson's rifle hit him in the stomach, with all the force of Tomlinson's swing behind it, and Lucas grunted but said nothing. Now he knew that Tomlinson's primary target wasn't _seaQuest_, it was Sophie, and nothing he could do would make Lucas betray his partner.

* * *

_Engineering_

The fight in Engineering was over before it began. Jezek took out the two intruders who managed to get through the hatch, and Wallace's group immobilized the rest. Hallifeld was starting to look disappointed at having missed out on any real action for the second time today, but everyone else was relieved to have gotten this far without any injuries or fatalities on their side.

"At least now we've got prisoners," Wallace pointed out cheerfully as he fixed riot cuffs to one of the unconscious intruders' wrists. "Sutton will be thrilled."

"Why?" Jezek asked, from her position on the floor where she was searching the two dead intruders for weapons and communication devices. "Interrogations fall under Intel's purview. They're Wolenczak's problem…aren't they?"

Doubt crept into her tone when she saw the look that Wallace and Hallifeld exchanged, and Wallace shook his head.

"I keep forgetting that you're still new to us, Jezek. You might not have noticed it yet, but this team runs a little differently than most."

"Understatement," Hallifeld muttered, and Shaw snickered.

"Sutton prefers to do the interrogations herself," Wallace continued, ignoring the other two.

"Wolenczak doesn't mind?" Jezek asked, sounding startled, which drew identical snorts of laughter from Shaw and Hallifeld.

"Remind me to bring you up to speed later," Wallace advised her, and she nodded in agreement.

* * *

_Ventilation Shaft 16-A_

Sophie was pulling herself up into the horizontal shaft that connected to the bridge, just a few feet away from her goal, when she heard the high-pitched whine of a laser rifle discharging. Her people didn't carry laser weapons, preferring the greater accuracy and reliability of projectile weapons, and since they'd come aboard they'd swayed most of the security personnel over to using projectile weapons as well. Macronesian Intelligence, by contrast, loved the newer and showier laser rifles, which meant that they were probably the ones doing the shooting.

Her throat tightened, but she didn't pause as she slid soundlessly over to the storage hatch inside the shaft. Before she'd come aboard the boat, that hatch had held spare grating panels. Now it contained a sniper rifle complete with silencer, flash suppressor, and biometric lock, placed there specifically in case of a situation like this one, when the bridge might need to be retaken from inside the shafts. The rifle wouldn't fire for anyone whose biometric profile hadn't been programmed in ahead of time, and the only people programmed into this gun were the members of her team.

She took the gun and moved down to the grating that separated the shaft from the bridge. The first thing she saw was Lucas, very much alive although the blood and bruising on his face and chest suggested he hadn't had a good time of it. She allowed herself just one moment of near-hysterical relief and then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she brought the rifle to her shoulder and put her eye to the sight. The magnification of the rifle sight helped to compensate for her blurry vision, and it gave her a good look at the man who'd just backhanded her partner. _Tomlinson_, she identified with a mix of anger and relief. Anger for the way the Mac agent was treating Lucas, and relief that she was finally going to get a chance to take Tomlinson out of the war permanently. He was one of the section leaders of Macronesian Intelligence, a position equal to her own at ISD, and he'd been causing problems for ISD and Section Seven for years.

Sophie took in the scene on the bridge with a trained eye, assessing the positions of each of Tomlinson's people to figure out which ones she'd need to take out first. The two by the hatch would be the hardest to hit, and she'd have to be careful when she took out Tomlinson and the man holding Lucas to keep from shooting her partner by accident. There was someone lying on the floor, the body half-hidden by one of the consoles, but although she couldn't see the face, she could tell the person's boots weren't UEO issue. By contrast, none of the UEO personnel appeared to have been shot, and she wondered if the laser fire she'd heard was the Macs shooting one of their own. It wouldn't surprise her if Tomlinson had lost his temper with a member of his team and shot them; he had a reputation as an impulsive hothead who had little regard for the lives of his people.

Tomlinson drew back his rifle and hit her partner with it, and she winced at the impact. She would've liked to shoot Tomlinson first, but it would give the two by the hatch too much of an opportunity to retaliate against the bridge crew. Instead, she lined up the shot to take out the man nearest O'Neill, and hoped the crew would be smart enough to keep their heads down.

* * *

_The Bridge_

Lucas was facing the main bridge hatch, so he didn't see the intruder standing next to Tim's station collapse, dead, as a bullet transected his spinal cord at the base of his brain. He heard the muffled noise of the rifle firing, however, and as Tomlinson stepped to the side, his attention drawn away from Lucas for one fatal moment, he snapped his arm up and out of Denner's grip, drawing his spare gun from his ankle holster and bringing it to bear on Tomlinson. He fired three times in quick succession, dropping Tomlinson where he stood, and then turned the gun on Denner.

Once Tomlinson and Denner were both dead, he dropped to the deck himself, not wanting to screw up any of Sophie's shots at the others. Tomlinson and Denner would've been the two she would've had to take the most time with, trying not to hit him when she took her shots at them. He knew it had to be Sophie in the ventilation shaft; there were other snipers on the team, but she would've wanted to do this job herself, to make sure that he was safe.

The rest of the intruders were dead before they had time to organize any sort of resistance. Lucas doubted they'd even figured out where the bullets were coming from before they died. Miguel, who'd drawn Lucas's XE-8 from its hiding place when the shooting started, looked baffled, and came cautiously over to check on Lucas.

"Jesus, Lucas," he breathed, taking in his friend's multiple injuries. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Lucas replied, leaning back against the nearest bulkhead for support. It was cold against his bare back, but not so cold that he wanted to go to the painful trouble of forcing his injured torso back into the confines of his uniform. "You?"

"I -" Miguel stopped, then shook his head. "You had another gun?"

Lucas grinned, the expression looking acutely out of place on his battered face. "No one on this team carries just one gun," he replied, in an amused tone that suggested he was probably quoting Sutton.

The ventilation grate in the far bulkhead rattled, and Miguel's grip tightened reflexively on the gun he still held.

"Hey, Miguel?" Lucas called, waiting until the other man turned to him, startled, before adding, "Please don't shoot my partner."

The grate snapped out of place, clanging against the bulkhead as it swung down on its hinges. Lucas watched as Sophie dropped feet-first out of the shaft. Typically, with a drop that high, she would have swung out by her arms first and then let go, cutting down on the distance she actually fell. She was probably protecting her injured hand, although that led him to wonder how she'd managed to climb the vent shaft in the first place with only one good hand.

"Lucas?"

Sophie's voice was sharp with tension, and he shook himself a little, trying to focus.

"I knew it was you," he told her, with a halfhearted attempt at a smile. "You have impeccable timing. And very good aim."

"Lucas -"

"I'm fine," he said, shaking his head as she started toward him. "Check on Juliana."

That stopped her cold. "Juliana?"

"She was working for Tomlinson. He shot her."

She nodded, not looking quite as surprised as he would have expected, and he frowned.

"Ortiz, see if you can re-initialize the hatch seals," Sophie ordered as she passed him, and he nodded.

"On it, Commander."

Sophie knelt down next to Juliana's body, and after a long moment she stood up again, her expression telling Lucas everything he needed to know. She came over to join him, taking a seat next to him on the floor near the bulkhead.

"I'm sorry, Lucas," she said softly, and he shook his head.

"She was dead the moment she signed on with Macronesian Intelligence," he sighed. "It was only a matter of time before it caught up with her. I just wish I'd known about it beforehand. I might have been able to do something to help her."

"Hatch seals are re-engaged," Miguel announced from across the bridge, sounding surprised by his own success.

"They're designed to be redundant," Lucas told him. "The Macs ruptured the seals, but they didn't cause a catastrophic system failure, so the seals were able to kick back on when you rebooted them. That feature was included so that if the bridge was retaken by the crew, we'd be able to seal out any remaining intruders."

"That's brilliant."

"Ask him who designed those brilliant seals," Sophie tossed over her shoulder at Miguel, who smiled a little at the chagrinned expression on Lucas's face.

"Good thinking, sir," he said instead, and abandoned the hatch controls to grab the first aid kit from behind the sensor station and bring it over to Lucas. Sophie gave him a nod of thanks as he set it down next to them.

"What did I miss?" she asked Lucas, taking in his multiple visible injuries, and he shrugged.

"It wasn't bad for someone with Tomlinson's reputation," he reassured her. "Mostly UPA. He only switched to the HED a few minutes ago."

"Unarmed physical assault," Sophie translated for Miguel, knowing without looking that he was still standing behind her and had to be puzzled by the acronyms. "Mostly used by amateurs, and Tomlinson was definitely not an amateur. Handheld electrocution devices are higher up the food chain, but not by much."

"I'm pretty sure he was saving the good stuff for you," Lucas told her. "It sounds like Stassi sent them here primarily to retrieve you."

Despite his best efforts, the words caught in his throat, and she gave him a knowing look.

"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured, echoing his words from two nights ago, and he wondered if it was coincidence or if she'd been more awake than she'd let on that night. Her left hand moved first to her ear and then to his, and he felt her settle his missing comset into place. One of her fingers brushed against the curve of his ear, a gentle caress that he knew was intentional; it was the most physical comfort she dared to offer him in the middle of the bridge.

"Thanks," he said, reaching up to nudge the comset into a more comfortable position.

"Lose it again and I'll staple it to your ear," she informed him calmly as she reached down beside her and used the thumb of her injured hand to undo the latch on the first aid kit.

"I'll keep that in mind." He watched as she dug out a gauze pad, handing it to him to press to the cut on his cheek, and then pulled out a tube of burn ointment and turned her attention to his chest. She was still wearing civilian clothes, soft black pants and a gray t-shirt, and the bright pink polish on her toenails was incongruous with the metal decking under her bare feet. "Why are you barefoot?" he asked, puzzled.

"That's a good damned question," she retorted, not looking up from her careful application of burn ointment onto the areas where the HED had been used on his chest. "I appreciate you leaving me civvies so I didn't have to climb through the ventilation shafts in a hospital gown, but in the future, if I'm going to be singlehandedly retaking the bridge during a hostile invasion, I'd appreciate it if you'd also leave me a pair of shoes."

"Oh." He thought about that for a minute, but couldn't remember putting any shoes in the duffle he'd brought her. Socks, yes. Shoes, no. "There were socks."

"That wouldn't give me enough traction to climb through the shafts."

"Sickbay has those socks with the rubber stuff on the bottoms."

"Those definitely aren't rated for climbing." She sat back on her heels, inspecting the job she'd done on his burns. "Not bad. I wish we had a medic."

"You need one more than I do," he replied, reaching out to tilt her head back and give him a better look at her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, her face flushed and damp with sweat, and she was shaking under his hand, a fine tremor that ran through her entire body. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," she muttered, and he frowned.

"I'm serious." He glanced around the bridge, finding that most of the bridge crew was watching the two of them although Tim was talking quietly with Henderson, who was still looking rattled. Miguel was closest, standing only a few feet away, and Lucas waved him over.

"What can I do?" he asked as he knelt down next to the two of them, and Lucas nodded at Sophie.

"Commander Sutton is ill. We need to figure out some way to either get a medic up here or get her back to Sickbay."

"Don't bother," Sutton advised them, half-leaning and half-falling back against the nearest console in a movement that was probably intentional but definitely lacked her usual grace. Miguel moved automatically to steady her, helping her to lean back without hitting her head on the side of the console. "The terrorist threat still isn't neutralized. It would take you twice as long to find a safe way back as it took me to get here in the first place, since I'm not up to going through the vent shafts again. By the time you find a way, this will have worn off."

"Worn off?" Lucas repeated, dawning realization in his voice. "What did you take?"

She rattled off the names of several medications that Miguel didn't recognize, but based on Lucas's expression, he knew what she was talking about and he wasn't happy to hear it.

"You gave yourself an R-block?" he demanded, sounding horrified.

"What's that?" Miguel asked, looking worriedly from Sutton to Lucas. He only had basic first aid training, and if Sutton was having a bad reaction to a medication, he had practically no idea what to do about it.

"She injected herself with a combination of drugs that block pain receptors so that pain medications and endorphins won't have any effect," Lucas informed him. "It's something that's used as a form of torture. It forces people to feel the maximum amount of pain from any injury they've sustained. I can't believe you did this to yourself!" he added, returning his attention to his partner.

"I would think that the throbbing in my head and my hand would be punishment enough," she pointed out, with a wince she didn't quite manage to hide. "You don't have to be so loud."

"What were you thinking?" he demanded, and she shrugged.

"There was no other way I was going to make it through the shafts," she replied, her tone matter of fact. "I was too clumsy with the medication in my system. R-blocks eliminate all of the medication effects, including sedation."

"You really don't look good, Commander," Miguel told her gently. "Is there any sort of antidote for what you took?"

"No, but it only lasts about an hour," she said, blinking up at Miguel in a way that suggested she was having trouble seeing him. "Then it'll wear off and the pain meds will start kicking back in."

"Assuming you don't have a seizure and stop breathing before then," Lucas snapped, and Miguel wondered if it was real anger or fear for his partner that made his tone so sharp. "R-blocks are dangerous. You should have stayed in Sickbay and waited for someone else to get into position to take back the bridge."

"That would've taken another half an hour at minimum. I knew that if you were on the bridge, they would've already singled you out for interrogation."

"And you didn't think I'd be able to hold out that long?"

"No, you idiot," she rasped, sounding faintly amused despite the pain he could hear in her voice. "I knew they'd kill you when they realized they weren't going to get the information they wanted from you. I couldn't let that happen."

"I can take care of myself, Sophie."

Her expression softened and she reached out with her good hand, her fingers brushing against his wrist.

"You're my partner, Lucas."

Lucas looked torn between kissing her and strangling her, but his touch was gentle as he clasped her fingers in his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "The next time you tell me you aren't reckless, I'm bringing this up as evidence to the contrary," he told her, and she snorted.

"How will we know when the rest of the boat is clear?" Miguel asked, and Sophie reached up to tap at her comset.

"Are you calling the shots?" Lucas asked with a frown.

"I was," she replied. "From Sickbay. I had to maintain silence in the shafts, though, and I left the mic off when I got here because I thought they'd find this -" She waved her uninjured hand in a vague gesture that encompassed the entire bridge and their current situation. "- distracting.

"How _did _you get through the shafts?" he asked, the question finally occurring to him. "Sickbay is a deck below the bridge, the shafts are completely vertical, and I know I didn't leave you any climbing gear."

That provoked a smile, weary though it was. "You left me a maglock."

His expression was priceless, and it helped to offset the throbbing in her hand and the ache in her shoulders that were inevitable consequences of the climbing she'd done.

"You used a maglock to scale the side of the vent shaft." It wasn't a question, so she didn't bother to answer, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Who are you, Spiderman?"

"You would have done the same thing if -" She cut herself off abruptly, tilting her head a little in the way that told him she was listening intently to her comset, and he stayed silent as she flipped down the mic. "The bridge is still secure," she informed whoever was on the other end. "He can bring it up whenever you're ready."

"What channel are you on?" Lucas asked with a frown, tapping his own comset to activate it.

"Eleven. Engineering is secure and Jezek wants to know if you can bring up enough of the mainframe that she and Hitchcock can run an engine diagnostic to make sure the Macs haven't managed to sabotage anything." Sophie started to push herself to her feet, but her partner's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Stay down," he told her firmly, flipping down the mic on his own comset. "Jezek, switch to channel four," he said, and then switched his own comset over so that the two of them could hash out the technical details over a private channel rather than the one the entire team was using.

Sophie leaned back against the helm, her eyes falling shut as she listened to her partner's voice. She was exhausted and in pain, and she'd done her part already; they wouldn't need anything more from her to retake the boat. Although she would deny it later, she actually drifted off while he talked, and the next thing she remembered clearly was the arrival of what must have been every corpsman on the boat. She refused a stretcher, as did Lucas, but it didn't seem to matter much to the corpsmen, and they both found themselves being transported to Sickbay over their admittedly weak protests.

* * *

_Sickbay_

She ended up in the bed next to his, which she suspected was by design. Dr. Smith made angry noises over her re-injured hand, as Sophie had known she would, and she did her best to tune the physician out. Nothing Dr. Smith said now would change what had happened, and if she'd had it to do over again, she would've done exactly the same thing. Lucas and her teammates were safe, as was the _seaQuest _crew, and that was what mattered.

"There wasn't anyone in here when the alarm went off," Sophie said suddenly, interrupting Dr. Smith as the anomaly occurred to her again while she watched the bustle of medical personnel moving around the room. "That's…unusual, isn't it?"

"It's against regulations," Dr. Smith replied, her lips pressed together in a tight line, and Sophie realized she'd hit on at least part of the reason Dr. Smith seemed so upset. "Even in an emergency, there should always be at least one corpsman on duty here at all times."

Sophie weighed her options and decided it wasn't worth it to ask why Sickbay had been deserted when the intruder alert had sounded. Dr. Smith looked entirely too angry to risk provoking her any further.

"Sophie?" Lucas called, and she turned her head toward him, wincing a little. Her headache was quickly receding as the R-block wore off, but it wasn't gone yet.

"I'm here," she replied, frowning as she realized that there was someone standing between her and Lucas. It was Katie Hitchcock, she realized. The engineer was holding her partner's hand, and she wondered when Hitchcock had gotten there.

"Good." He relaxed back against the pillow, glancing up at Katie. "Did you hear about Juliana?"

"Tim told me," she agreed, her voice soft. "I'm sorry, Lucas."

He was silent for a long moment. "You knew she was working for them," he said finally, and Katie frowned. She started to deny it - how would she have known what Juliana was up to when she'd last seen the girl over a decade ago? - but Sophie spoke before she could.

"I knew," she confirmed. Katie glanced from Lucas to his partner, realizing that he hadn't been talking to her.

He was silent for another long moment, then sighed.

"You should have told me."

"You would have tried to get involved."

"So?"

It was Sophie's turn to pause, staring up at the ceiling with eyes that stubbornly refused to focus.

"Rand," she said finally, as though that would explain everything. It didn't mean anything to Katie, and judging from Lucas's puzzled expression it didn't mean much to him either.

"Rand?"

"He's the head of Enemy Innovation Control."

"The Evil Genius Squad," Lucas interpreted. EIC, referred to colloquially as the Evil Genius Squad, was in charge of identifying, tracking, and in some cases eliminating the scientists and researchers who worked for the Macs. "You think he would have had a problem with me knowing Juliana?"

"He's the reason you almost ended up in Leavenworth instead of working for ISD."

"Really?" he asked, sounding interested. "Why?"

That earned a disbelieving snort from his partner, who was remembering her own shock five years ago when she'd learned from Pearson that ISD's newest recruit had hacked the entirety of both their own network and the Macronesian network. "Please. You know what you did."

"Yeah, I know, but why wouldn't he have wanted to recruit me instead?"

"Because you're too smart," she replied frankly. "He believed that the risk of what you might do if you were subverted by the enemy outweighed the possible benefits of having you on our side."

"He wants to lock up all of the smart people on our side so they can't end up on the other side? That seems shortsighted."

"Not 'all of the smart people', Lucas. Just you." She glanced away from the ceiling long enough to give him an exasperated look. "You do realize how many orders of magnitude above 'smart' you really are, don't you?"

"I'm not a threat to the UEO," he said, avoiding the question, and she sighed.

"You and I both know that, but as long as people like Rand doubt you, you have to avoid anything that makes them more suspicious."

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it," Sophie pointed out tiredly. "You just have to do it. How do you think it would have gone for you if Callahan had found out that you and Juliana had a history together and then she started working for Macronesian Intelligence?"

He winced. "Poorly," he acknowledged. "Has Rand been gunning for me all this time?"

"For the first few weeks you were with ISD, he made some noise about wanting you on lockdown. Once you became my partner, he shut up about it."

"He shut up, or you shut him up?" Lucas asked, and nodded at the little smile that tugged at Sophie's lips. "I thought so."

"If Lowry trusted me to keep an eye on you, then Rand couldn't very well keep questioning it," she demurred. "And Lowry wasn't thrilled by the implication that _I _would have anything to do with a possible traitor."

"No one's ever questioned your integrity," Lucas agreed, and she smiled again, wryly.

"It's more than that," she told him. "We're partners, Lucas. If you turned out to be a traitor, do you really think they'd just let me walk away?"

That was a sobering thought, and it kept him quiet for several minutes as he thought about the implications of it.

"You took a big chance on me," he said finally, thinking about how easily things could have gone another way. If Sophie hadn't been willing to risk her own life and reputation to take him on as her partner, his life would have turned out differently. He'd probably be in Leavenworth, or more likely in a smaller, unofficial prison somewhere outside the restrictive laws of the UEO and firmly under the thumb of EIC.

Sophie didn't answer, and Katie glanced over to find her fast asleep. She turned back to Lucas with a smile, and he returned it with a quirk of his lips.

"She's asleep, isn't she?"

"Out cold," Katie agreed, giving his hand a squeeze. "You should be, too, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

Despite his words, he didn't look like he was going to be falling asleep anytime soon. Katie didn't push the issue, preferring to stay perched on the edge of his bed and holding his hand. He'd been through a lot today, and if he wasn't ready to sleep yet, she'd stay with him until he was. That was what friends were for.


	46. Chapter 46

Prompt 023. And sooner or later as he lurked and pried on the borders he would be caught, and taken – for examination.

* * *

"Commander Wolenczak."

Jovasti's voice was quiet, but Lucas had been sleeping fitfully anyway, and he woke immediately when he heard his name.

"Everything okay?" he rasped, and made a face at the sound of his own voice. He coughed to clear his throat, then regretted it when it sent a jolt of pain through his chest. He'd known that Tomlinson had hit him hard with the butt of his rifle, but while the adrenaline from the attempted takeover of the boat had been in his system, he hadn't really felt it. Judging from the pain he was in now, though, he had to have at least a couple of broken ribs.

"All of our people are fine," Jovasti replied, knowing that would be the foremost concern on the other man's mind.

"How long has it been?"

"You've been out for almost a full day," the chief told him. "I wouldn't have woken you up now, but we have a little bit of a problem."

"Where's Sophie?"

"She's asleep, which is part of the problem." Lucas frowned at that, and Jovasti gave him a reassuring smile. "It doesn't have anything to do with her, sir. It's an administrative issue. ISD was notified of the attempted boarding as it was happening."

"I know. I called Pearson," Lucas confirmed.

"Well, now he's upset that Dr. Smith won't allow him access to Commander Sutton. Captain Bridger took him to the wardroom to discuss what he's planning to do with the prisoners, but he's got Commander Colvard from IE with him, so I don't think that talk is going to go well. I thought you might like to know what was going on before Pearson managed to cause an incident. Sir."

"Wait. The wardroom?" Lucas repeated, feeling like he'd somehow missed the first hour of a movie and now had no idea what was happening. "Jack is here?"

Jovasti's expression told him that if he didn't pull himself together fast, he was going to become part of the problem. Lucas pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing at the motion as he tried to make himself wake up and figure out what the hell the chief was talking about.

"Jack's here?" he repeated, sounding a little more like himself, and Jovasti nodded. "What did he do, jump on the first ship headed this way?"

"Rumor has it that he practically commandeered the _Vigilant_."

That was unfortunate. If Pearson had taken the _Dauntless_, Sarah Sanati could have kept him under control for as long as it took Sophie to get back on her feet. Lucas didn't know the senior intelligence officer on the _Vigilant_, but typically Section Seven stayed out of ISD business. Sanati was an exception, and it was too much to hope that the _Vigilant_'s SIO would be as helpfully interfering as she was.

"And he brought the head of Information Extraction with him, so obviously he's planning to oversee the interrogations himself." Lucas sighed, finally seeing the problem. As the head of IE, Colvard trained ISD's operatives in interrogation techniques, and he happened to be a proponent of intense physical torture. "Captain Bridger won't be thrilled about that."

"Pearson demanded that the prisoners be transferred to the _Vigilant_. Colvard might've been all right with the prisoners staying here and Commander Sutton doing the interrogations, since the two of them get along all right, but Dr. Smith has Commander Sutton sedated and she's not planning to let her wake up any time soon."

"Because if she wakes up, Dr. Smith will never be able to keep her in Sickbay," Lucas concluded for him. "And Colvard isn't okay with me doing the interrogations because he knows I'm not about to cut off anyone's fingers to make them talk." Noticing Jovasti's uncomfortable expression, Lucas smiled wryly. "I don't mind that he doesn't trust me to do it, Chief. Sophie and I are both happier with me handing that part of the job off to her. But since she can't do it, Colvard wants them for himself."

"Captain Bridger refused to turn over the prisoners to Pearson and Colvard, sir. Commander Pearson says they're ISD's prisoners and the captain has no right to keep them from him."

"By our rules, he's right," Lucas pointed out, grabbing the clean uniform that was folded and sitting on the little table next to the bed. He vaguely remembered being moved into one of Sickbay's private rooms after Dr. Smith had declared herself satisfied that his condition was stable. "By the rest of the Navy's rules, though, it's technically up to the captain. Most officers would just cooperate with us, but -" He shrugged, feeling the movement pull at his shoulders. They were both sore, a consequence of having his arms pinned behind him during the beating he'd taken, and he rolled his left shoulder experimentally as he slid out of bed.

"- but Captain Bridger isn't most officers," Jovasti finished for him. "Do you need a hand, sir?"

"I'll be fine," Lucas assured him, fairly certain he could manage to get dressed without assistance. "Thanks for the warning, Chief. I'll take care of it. Would you mind going to sit with Commander Sutton for a while?"

"I'm sure Commander Hitchcock would appreciate the break," Jovasti agreed, and Lucas paused in mid-motion.

"Katie's sitting with her?"

Jovasti nodded. "She said that if you couldn't, she was going to," he confirmed. "The rest of the team has been in and out, too, but she's been a fixture. Wallace and I have kept everyone out of here because Dr. Smith asked us to let you sleep, but I thought you needed to know what was going on before it was too late to do anything about it."

* * *

The second he set foot in the wardroom, he knew that Jovasti had done the right thing by getting him involved. Pearson and Colvard were sitting across the table from Bridger, Pearson's arms folded across his chest and a mutinous expression on his face. Colvard's face was blank as usual, giving nothing away, but Lucas suspected from how angry Pearson looked that Colvard probably wasn't in a great mood either. Captain Bridger was leaning forward in his seat, with the righteous indignation that Lucas remembered seeing on several different occasions on the old _seaQuest_ when some injustice had aroused the captain's ire.

"Am I interrupting?" he asked, noting that they all fell conspicuously silent when he entered the room.

"Of course not," Bridger said after a moment's hesitation, rising to his feet and coming over to rest a hand on Lucas's shoulder. His shoulder still hurt, but Bridger's hand was gentle, and he managed not to flinch at the touch. "I didn't think Dr. Smith would let you out of Sickbay so soon. How are you feeling?"

"I'll live," he said with a wry smile. "I just won't be happy about it for a couple of days. I came up as soon as I heard that Commander Pearson and Commander Colvard were here."

Pearson, who'd stood when Bridger had, came around the table to face Lucas, and they exchanged brief smiles as they shook hands.

"I would've come by to see you when we first got here, but the doctor running your Sickbay has that place locked down like a maximum security prison," Pearson told him, sounding exasperated. "She wouldn't let us see you or Sophie."

"Sophie isn't getting out any time soon," Lucas replied. "Lowry ordered her onto a week of medical leave even before all of this happened. You'll just have to make do with me."

"Unfortunately, Commander, that's not an acceptable option." That was Colvard, and he sounded a little apologetic as he said it. It was the first time Lucas had ever heard Colvard sound anything even approaching apologetic, and he wondered what he'd managed to do to inadvertently land himself in Colvard's good graces. "We have an acute need for the intelligence that those prisoners possess. I must insist that they be turned over to us immediately."

"Intelligence they _might _possess," Lucas corrected him. "They were working for Tomlinson, and he is - he _was _- one of the biggest fans of compartmentalization that Macronesian Intelligence had. It's entirely possible that none of his men have any idea what his master plan was."

"Tomlinson?" Pearson asked, momentarily sidetracked. "Nate Tomlinson?"

Lucas gestured to his face, where he currently sported a black eye, split lip, and assorted other scrapes and bruises. "Courtesy of Nate Tomlinson, yes," he confirmed, and Pearson whistled.

"Sophie really hated that guy. Did she finally get to put a couple of bullets into him?"

"Only if she did it post-mortem," Lucas replied, and something in his tone drew Colvard's attention.

"_You _killed him?" the interrogator demanded.

"I was closer."

"She's a sniper. Distance doesn't matter."

Lucas waved a hand as though to dismiss the argument. "Details."

"Anyway," Pearson interrupted them, leaning back in his chair. "Let's get back to the subject at hand, shall we? Captain Bridger has our prisoners and we would like them turned over to us. Now."

"This is my boat, and I'm not turning over any prisoners so that you can torture them. The Geneva Conventions -"

"- don't apply to any Macronesian prisoners of war." Colvard was in his element now, citing the loophole that had made his job so much easier since the conflict with Macronesia had begun. "Bourne told the UN to take a flying leap when they approached him to sign on behalf of Macronesia. The Geneva Conventions apply to a signatory nation if the opposing nation is not a signatory, but only if the opposing nation accepts and applies the provisions of the Conventions. Bourne and his people have been torturing our POWs since the beginning of the war, which invalidates any protection they might have had against us." Colvard paused, glancing at Lucas, and then looked back at Bridger. "You might ask Commander Wolenczak about how the Macronesians treat their POWs, if you don't believe me."

Bridger turned to Lucas, about to say something about what the intruders had done to him two days before, and then he saw the pained expression on the younger man's face and a flash of realization hit him. Colvard wasn't talking about Tomlinson's efforts to make Lucas talk. He was talking about the time that Lucas and Sophie had been taken prisoner together, when Sophie had been tortured and Lucas had been forced to watch her die in his arms. Lucas clearly hadn't been expecting Colvard to bring that up, and his visible anguish at the memory made Bridger want to lash out at Colvard. Hadn't Lucas suffered enough? Why would one of his own people make him relive any of that suffering just to prove a point?

"I don't care how anyone else treats their prisoners," Bridger shot back. "No one is torturing anyone aboard my boat, and I'm not turning anyone over to you to be tortured, either! We are the UEO, gentlemen, and we are _better_ than that."

He slapped his hand down on the table for emphasis. Pearson and Colvard didn't look impressed by his impassioned speech, though, and Lucas just looked weary.

"Can't you drop it for now?" Lucas asked finally, addressing Pearson rather than Colvard. He didn't appreciate Colvard's attempt at emotional manipulation, and he wasn't sure he trusted himself to speak to the man right now without saying something he would regret later. "Call Admiral Lowry, and let him and McGath fight it out."

"And what happens to the prisoners while they're arguing over red tape?" Pearson demanded, and Lucas shrugged, then regretted it as his shoulders complained.

"Unless you thought they had information that was so time-sensitive you needed to get it out of them in the next 24 hours, you would have let most of them sit and sweat in their cells anyway, while you picked one of them as the sacrificial lamb. The others would all open up faster once they got to see what a mangled wreck you made of the first guy." Lucas paused, rethinking the rude comment that he nearly made when he saw Colvard's surprised look. Making Colvard angry might make him feel better now, but it wouldn't do him any favors in the long run. "Come on," he said instead, shaking his head a little. "Just because I don't play the game doesn't mean I don't know the rules. Trust me, you aren't going to convince Captain Bridger to cooperate with you, so you're better off calling Lowry and letting the decision get made above your paygrade."

Pearson was finally starting to look like he might listen to reason, and then the captain's PAL went off.

"Bridger," he replied, a little wary, and Lucas straightened when Dr. Smith's voice came through the speaker.

"Captain, is Commander Wolenczak with you?"

"He is," Bridger confirmed with a glance at Lucas.

"Would you send him down to Sickbay? I need to speak with him as soon as possible."

The link snapped off before Bridger could say anything further, and Pearson chuckled under his breath.

"I don't think I'd keep her waiting, Wolenczak," he told Lucas. "She doesn't seem nearly as understanding as Adler."

"First tell me you won't make any rash decisions about this without at least calling Lowry," Lucas pressed, and after a moment Pearson shrugged.

"Fine. If it matters that much to you, I'll let Lowry settle it."

* * *

Lucas hoped he didn't look quite as panicked as he felt when he entered Sickbay. He couldn't help worrying; Sophie was here, and she was injured, and Dr. Smith didn't make a habit of demanding that people come to Sickbay immediately unless there was a legitimate problem.

Seeing Laughlin over by the far door, chatting with one of the corpsmen and looking completely at ease, did wonders for his nerves. If there had been anything wrong with Sophie, Laughlin would've been as much of a wreck as he was. Sophie had suspected that actually working for her would cure Laughlin of her hero worship, but it seemed to have had the opposite effect, and Laughlin stubbornly refused to take Sophie off of the metaphorical pedestal she'd elevated her to years ago.

"Sir," called a voice from the other side of the room, and Lucas turned to see Shaw watching him with barely contained excitement. "Would you join us, please?"

Dr. Smith was with Shaw, he realized belatedly, standing next to the door to a small room he probably wouldn't have known the function of if he hadn't been part of the team that had searched the boat when it was first discovered in that cornfield. It was the door to the morgue. The _seaQuest _didn't exactly have an impressive facility for her dead, but there was an autopsy table and a set of steel drawers that were designed to hold bodies in subzero temperatures, keeping them from decomposing until they could be buried appropriately.

Once the door to the morgue closed behind the three of them, Shaw turned to him, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.

"I got permission from Dr. Smith to inspect the bodies of the dead intruders, sir."

Lucas nodded; that was standard protocol, for one of the team's medical personnel to inspect the bodies of any dead enemy agents to make sure there weren't any nasty surprises hidden there.

"I assume that you found something." He considered that statement, then added, "Something other than a concealed explosive, because I suspect you wouldn't be quite so excited about that."

"It's not an explosive." Grinning, Shaw produced a clear plastic container that held something small and white.

"It's…a tooth?" Lucas took the container, holding it up to the light and tilting it a little to take a better look. It didn't look like anything but a tooth at first, and then he tilted it a little further and saw the glint of metal. "It's got an embedded microchip."

"After I saw the chip, I extracted the entire tooth to make sure I wouldn't damage the chip trying to get it out."

Lucas examined the tooth with an expert eye, trying to decide on the best way to get the chip out without breaking it. The average intelligence agent knew that his job was high risk, and sooner or later as he lurked and pried on the borders he would be caught, and taken for examination. It wasn't uncommon for intelligence agents, particularly ones who suspected they were headed out on an unusually dangerous mission, to hide important intel on microchips embedded in a false tooth, or even concealed in porcelain and cemented to a real tooth.

"Which one of them did you take this out of?"

"The only woman on their team," Shaw replied, sounding thoughtful. "Which is strange. Why do you suppose there was only one woman on their entire team? The Mac teams usually have about the same gender ratios as ours."

"Juliana," Lucas breathed, nearly dropping the container in his sudden dismay and missing all of Shaw's speculation. He was holding Juliana's tooth. Shaw had pulled this out of Juliana's mouth - he'd searched Juliana's dead body with brisk efficiency, the same way he had all of the others -

Lucas set the container down sharply on the counter and turned away, tasting bile as his stomach churned.

The room was silent for a long moment. When Shaw finally spoke, he was subdued. "I'm sorry, sir," he said quietly. "I didn't know you knew her."

Lucas cleared his throat, trying desperately to stifle his overwhelming jumble of emotions.

"It's all right," he said, his tone hollow. "I haven't seen her in years. I didn't even know she'd defected until she showed up here with Tomlinson."

"Why don't we step out for a moment?" Dr. Smith, silent until now, put her hand on Shaw's elbow and guided him toward the door. "We'll be just outside, all right?"

"No, I - " He cleared his throat again, swallowing hard as he looked at the container. "I'm fine. I will need a hand getting that chip free, though. Shaw, send Jezek in here, will you?"

"Of course, sir."

"And Shaw?" Lucas waited until Shaw turned around to look at him, then gave the medic a brief nod. "Nice job."

* * *

Jezek had been surprised and pleased that he'd asked her to extract the chip from the tooth. It was delicate work, and although it wasn't particularly complex, he was afraid that he was too distracted to do a good job. It didn't help that he felt a surge of revulsion every time he even thought about touching the tooth. Jezek didn't ask why he didn't want to do the job himself and he didn't enlighten her, merely watching as she removed the chip with surgical precision.

She passed the chip to him once it was free, glancing up at him over the magnifying glasses she'd worn to do the extraction.

"Did you want me to run the chip, sir?" she offered, sounding delighted by the prospect. He hated to disappoint her, especially after she'd done such an impressive job getting the chip out, but he needed to be the one to access that chip. If there was sensitive information on it, he needed to be the first one to know, and if the chip was a trap, loaded with a virus to attack the _seaQuest_'s computers, he would have the best chance of shutting it down.

"I appreciate the offer, Jezek, but I'll take care of it."

Her face fell a little, but she nodded, and he suspected that his reasons for accessing the chip himself had already occurred to her.

"I'll be in the main area of Sickbay if you need me, sir."

"This was very good work, Petty Officer," he informed her, and she brightened again.

"Thank you, sir."

He waited until she was gone to set the chip into the intake port on the side of his laptop, and waited a long moment for the interface to pop up. When it finally did, he went to work.

* * *

Lucas had expected the chip's security to be difficult to crack. After all, Juliana was the one who'd set it up, and she'd been a technological genius even if she hadn't been quite as skilled as he was. He hadn't expected it to be impossible, though, and that was how it was starting to look. After several hours' worth of work, he'd tried nearly everything, including the nth-order derivatives she'd once preferred, and nothing had worked. He was about to rethink Jezek's offer for assistance - maybe a fresh pair of eyes would see something he'd missed - when a glimmer of memory struck him. There had been another time that Juliana had told him to try an nth-order derivative, and when it hadn't worked, Nick had recommended a reduction algorithm…

The computer accepted the reduction algorithm with a happy chirp, and the drive whirred as the chip came online.

"Finally," he muttered, shaking his head. There was no question that she'd picked that code specifically for him. If he'd remembered their escapades on Node Three a little sooner, he could have saved himself a few hours of frustration. Now he just had to find out what was actually on the chip.

* * *

Sophie had been drifting in and out of sleep all day. She hadn't actually told anyone that she was awake, which had afforded her the opportunity to eavesdrop on a number of conversations that had taken place in her room in Sickbay. She hadn't been alone at any point - there were always at least two members of Zeta Team in her room - and, confident in the knowledge that she was fast asleep, they'd talked about several things they might not have brought up if they'd realized she was listening.

Jovasti, Lightman, and Kennedy had been there earlier, talking about a rumor they'd overheard that morning. Apparently, the two corpsmen who'd been assigned to Sickbay the morning of the attempted takeover had both been temporarily removed of duty pending an investigation into why they'd abandoned their posts. According to the rumor mill, they'd been absent because they'd been together in a little-used storage room just outside of Sickbay, and according to Kennedy, the boat's security cameras had caught them _in flagrante delicto_. That was why Dr. Smith had been so angry, and Sophie couldn't help but sympathize with her. As CO of her team, she didn't particularly care who slept with whom, so long as it was consensual and they kept it out of the workplace. If two of her people had deserted their posts to have sex on ISD's time, though, she would've come down on them so hard it would've made Dr. Smith's response look like a love tap.

She'd fallen asleep again as they'd been debating which other members of _seaQuest_'s crew they thought were carrying on secret affairs. When she woke the next time, she was thirsty, and she thought about asking one of her current companions for a glass of water. If she did that, though, they'd probably tell Dr. Smith that she was awake and she'd end up drugged into unconsciousness again. After a few minutes of eavesdropping, she decided that she didn't want to risk missing the end of what was quickly becoming a very interesting conversation between Martinez, Graham, and Katie Hitchcock regarding the fate of the surviving Macronesian intruders.

"I heard that Bridger and Pearson were up there all morning playing _quien es mas macho_, fighting over who'd get to keep the prisoners," Martinez reported, her amusement audible.

"Pearson isn't the problem," Graham pointed out. "Colvard is the problem."

"Who's Colvard?" Hitchcock asked, and there was a momentary pause before Martinez spoke.

"He's the officer in charge of interrogations for our division," she said slowly. "Pearson is generally a reasonable guy, and if Wolenczak leans on him hard enough, he'll probably let it go. Colvard, though…maybe if Sutton could get involved, Colvard would back off, but without Sutton's influence I don't know that Wolenczak will get very far. Your captain may end up with a real problem on his hands."

Hitchcock, who'd been holding Sophie's uninjured hand throughout the conversation, gave it a gentle squeeze. Sophie stifled the urge to smile, which would've ruined her act. The others might or might not have guessed why Hitchcock was sitting with her, but Sophie was pretty sure it was because Lucas couldn't. She didn't know if Lucas had asked Hitchcock to keep Sophie company or if she'd volunteered, but she suspected that it had been Hitchcock's idea, which raised Sophie's opinion of her even further.

"Well, Commander Sutton definitely isn't getting involved," Hitchcock assured them. "Even if Dr. Smith would permit it, I think Lucas would knock her out himself before he'd let her do anything else to jeopardize her recovery. Besides, I suspect that Captain Bridger is capable of handling whatever Colvard throws at him."

"I don't mean any insult to Captain Bridger," Martinez told Hitchcock. "He seems like a solid officer. He's not used to the way that our division works, though. Colvard isn't used to hearing 'no' from anyone."

It surprised her that Martinez and Graham were speaking so freely in front of someone who wasn't part of their division. Apparently, Hitchcock had made a good impression on them. It wouldn't have escaped their notice that she and Lucas were friends, either, and if they hadn't trusted her at least to a certain extent, they never would have permitted her to go anywhere near their injured CO.

"I'm going to grab another cup of coffee," Hitchcock said, and Sophie felt the other woman slide her hand carefully out of hers, doing her best not to wake Sophie as she stood. "Can I get anything for either one of you?"

"No, thank you, ma'am," Martinez said, answering for both of them. "Laughlin and Demarin will be in to relieve us in about half an hour. I think we're good until then."

The door shut behind Hitchcock, and Sophie considered telling her teammates that she was awake. It was a risk, particularly if Lucas had already ordered them to notify Dr. Smith if she woke up, but if she could get them to sneak her out of here, she might be able to convince Colvard to back off and keep him from causing problems for Bridger.

"I don't like Colvard," Martinez declared, seemingly out of the blue, and Graham whistled under his breath.

"I wouldn't say that real loud," he told her. "It's not safe to dislike the head of the Inquisition."

"I'm not saying it to anyone but you," she snapped. "And it's not like Colvard gives a damn what I think of him anyway. I just -"

"Whoa, Jenny." Graham's voice had softened in response to his teammate's distressed tone. Sophie was biting the inside of her cheek now with the effort it took to keep from saying something, wanting to find out just what Colvard had said or done to upset Martinez but knowing that if she interrupted them, it would be like pulling teeth to get anything out of her. She was far more likely to tell Graham than she was to tell Sophie. "Did he do something to you? Because if he did -"

"What? No." Martinez sounded startled. "He's never even spoken to me, Charlie. I don't like him because of what he is."

"Ah." Graham's chair creaked a little as he leaned back. "Because of Sutton."

Now Sophie was definitely glad she hadn't told them she was awake. They never would have talked about her if they'd known she was listening.

"You saw it too, huh?"

"We all saw it. We were all worried about what was happening."

"She's a great CO," Martinez said, contemplative. "She always was, and I would've stuck with her until the end no matter what. But for a while there, it looked like she was turning into one of them."

"The cadre of soulless monsters who run this division?" he asked cheekily, and there was a soft thump as Martinez smacked his arm.

"Now _there's _something I wouldn't say real loud," she chided him. "And they aren't all like that. The admiral isn't, and Pearson never was."

"And Jenner's not a bad guy either," Graham agreed. "But we all know that most of them don't give a good goddamn about anything but following orders. They're just empty shells."

"That could have been Sutton. She's always been driven and intense, and it was a good thing at first, but over time she got closer and closer to crossing the line. The thought of having to watch her lose herself…" Martinez sighed. "ISD cares about her because she's such a skilled tactician, but there's more to her than that. She's incredibly brave, and she's got a wicked sense of humor, and she's so insanely protective of her people. Not just the team, either, but everyone she cares about. Sanati, Pearson, Wolenczak...it makes me wonder what Colvard used to be like. Was he funny? Did he have friends? Did he ever care about anyone before he became what he is now?"

"Wolenczak deserves the credit for averting that particular disaster. If it wasn't for him, Sutton would've become another Colvard by now."

Martinez let out a shaky laugh. "I have to admit, at first I wasn't sure what she was thinking, bringing him onto the team. He turned out to be the best choice she could have made, though. He saved her life."

"He's saved all of our lives at least once," Graham pointed out.

"You know what I mean," she rebutted. "She couldn't have found a better partner if she'd spent her whole career looking. None of us could have pulled her away from that ledge, but he did it without even realizing what he was doing. After he joined the team, she became herself again. I don't know if she would have -"

Martinez stopped in mid-sentence as the door to the room opened and one of the two people they were currently discussing walked in. Wolenczak's hair was disheveled, a clear indication that he'd been running his fingers through it in frustration, and the bruises on his face stood out in stark relief against his unusually pale skin.

"I need to talk to Commander Sutton."

"She's asleep, sir," Martinez said slowly, hating to point out the obvious, particularly when Wolenczak looked so rattled.

"Then I need you to find Dr. Smith so that I can wake her up," he said sharply, and Sophie immediately dropped all pretense of being asleep. Eavesdropping on Graham and Martinez had been educational, but Lucas wouldn't insist on waking her unless there was a serious problem.

"I'm awake," she said, opening her eyes in time to see twin looks of abject horror flash across Graham and Martinez's faces when they realized she'd been listening in on them.

"Commander," Martinez breathed, nearly choking on the word, and Sophie made a sharp gesture with her good hand. She wasn't angry with Martinez, but Lucas needed her full attention right now. Besides, it would do Martinez and Graham a little good to spend some time pondering the questionable wisdom of talking about their CO when there was any chance, however slim, that she might overhear them.

"You're both dismissed."

Sophie pushed herself up onto her elbows as Martinez and Graham fled the room, and she met her partner's gaze with a frown.

"What's wrong?"

"There's something you need to see."

* * *

Lucas stacked enough pillows behind her back that she could sit up without much effort, and then he took the chair Hitchcock had been sitting in as she waited for the dizzy spell she'd provoked by changing positions to pass. He'd offered her the glass of water by the bed without comment, and she took a grateful sip and handed it back to him.

"What's going on, Lucas?"

"Shaw searched the bodies and found an embedded microchip in one of Juliana's teeth."

She exhaled sharply. "A trap?"

"I don't think so." He handed her his laptop and she set it down in her lap, frowning at the interface.

"I hope you aren't expecting me to break whatever code lock she put on this," Sophie told him. It was a weak attempt at humor, but it earned her a tired smile from him.

"I already broke it." He shook his head at the thought. "It took me forever, and I should have known the answer from the beginning. The code she used was part of a hacking job I did on Node Three with her, to break into the World Bank. I knew when I saw it that it had to be intended for me. She left me a message, Sophie."

"Play it for me?" Sophie asked softly, and he nodded, keying in the code and watching mutely as Juliana's face popped up on the screen.

"Hi, Lucas," she said, tilting her head to one side as she regarded the camera. She was wearing the red and black Macronesian military uniform, and she looked hopelessly out of place in it. "I'm betting you'll be the one to crack the code on this chip, since you're the only one who's ever cracked it before. I wanted to record this just in case…"

Lucas looked over at Sophie as Juliana trailed off and found that she was watching him, and he slid his hand into hers as Juliana resumed her monologue.

"You should know that none of this had anything to do with you. I know that you work for ISD, and it seems like a slap in the face that I'm working for your direct opposition, but you had nothing to do with the decision. I felt unappreciated working for Deon International, and Deon has ties to Macronesia. When they offered me this job, I thought it was finally my chance to get some recognition for my work. If I'd had any idea what it would really entail…" She shrugged. "I guess I can't do anything to change the past. Anyway, what matters is that I just got assigned to a strike team that's supposed to take over _seaQuest _and abduct your partner. Tomlinson says Stassi wants her, and I don't think it's for anything nice. I don't want to go up against you, mostly because I don't think I'm going to win. I told them that you were always a better programmer than me, but they won't listen. They're hoping that since I worked with you once, I'll figure out some way to unravel the lockouts on _seaQuest_'s systems and help them steal the boat. It's a stupid idea, but I don't have any choice, and the more I learn about your partner and your team, the more I suspect that none of us are going to make it out of this alive."

Sophie squeezed her partner's hand, and he returned the gesture but didn't look away from the screen, where Juliana was smiling weakly.

"I got myself into this, Lucas, and I don't expect anyone else to get me out of it. But if I don't get out, I hope you find this. I'm encoding all of the data I've got onto this chip. Scheduled troop movements, planned attacks on UEO outposts, weapons and tactical data for the Macronesian fleet…and Bourne's personal calendar for the next three months. See if you can take all of that and end this senseless war." She raised her right hand, touching the screen for a moment before letting it fall back to her side. "I'm sorry that things were such a disaster between us, and that we never managed to make it right. If you're watching this, then I guess we'll never get the chance. Goodbye, Lucas."

Juliana disappeared, and the screen was suddenly filled with files. It was a wealth of intelligence, far more than Pearson or Colvard could ever have dreamed of torturing out of the surviving intruders.

Sophie looked up at Lucas, who was looking at the screen with an expression best described as wistful.

"If all of this information checks out, it really could end the war," he said softly, and Sophie nodded.

"I'll have her cleared," Sophie told him, knowing it was inadequate but not sure what else she could do. "We'll list her as a double agent through ISD. It isn't much, but at least she won't go down as a traitor to the UEO. People will know that in the end she did the right thing."

"I guess we need to tell Pearson. He's aboard _seaQuest _right now, and he's senior to both of us."

Sophie started to agree, then paused. "Maybe not."

"No?"

"Is Colvard still insisting that Captain Bridger turn over the prisoners to him?"

Lucas stared at her for a moment, then chuckled. "I don't know why I'm still surprised by the things you manage to find out, even when you're supposed to be unconscious," he said finally. "Yeah, he is."

"Can you get me a link to the admiral?"

* * *

Lowry, who'd been in the middle of negotiating with McGath for possession of the prisoners, had been delighted to hear about the unexpected intelligence windfall they'd just received, and he'd accepted Sophie's suggestion of what to do with the prisoners in return. Several hours later, Bridger had handed them off to Pearson and Colvard on the _Vigilant _with the stipulation that no one would lay a hand on any of them. Lucas felt a little guilty about not pointing out the obvious flaw in that promise to Bridger before the captain agreed to it, but Lowry hadn't been willing to relinquish control of the prisoners, and whether he liked it or not, his first duty was to Lowry, not to Bridger. There was always the chance that the intel Juliana had given them would turn out to be false and they'd need to find out exactly what the prisoners knew.

Lucas, Bridger, and Ford were currently sitting in Sophie's room in Sickbay. Sophie was in bed but not asleep, having managed to strike a bargain with Dr. Smith that if she stayed in her room and behaved herself, she wouldn't be sedated again.

"The official story is that Juliana Koskoff was a double agent," Sophie told them. "All of the intel she gave us will still need to be vetted, but I suspect it's good. Colvard will confirm what he can with the information he gets from the prisoners, and the rest we'll have to run through our other intelligence sources."

"Commander Colvard isn't going to be getting anything from the prisoners," Bridger interrupted, giving her a stern look. "Admiral Lowry personally assured the Secretary General that no harm would come to them."

Sophie glanced at Lucas, who shrugged. The _Vigilant _was long gone, and nothing Bridger said or did at this point was going to make any difference in the fates of those men.

"He promised no one would harm them physically," Sophie clarified for him. "That doesn't mean they're going to leave them alone. I suspect they're going to Escher the whole group."

"Escher?" Ford repeated, and Lucas nodded.

"It's what we call strictly psychological torture," he interpreted. "It's named for the artist, because so much of his work was designed to screw with people's heads." He looked over at Sophie. "What do you think? 'Last Man Standing'?"

She nodded. "That would probably be my first choice. They'll convince each of the prisoners that the rest of their team has been tortured and executed, and that if they don't cooperate, they'll be next. It's relatively fast, typically effective, and they won't have to touch a hair on the prisoners' heads to do it."

"That isn't what we agreed to -"

"Captain Bridger." Sophie's tone was tinged with exasperation. "No offense meant, sir, but as intelligent as you are, I have a hard time believing that you thought you could come to any sort of agreement with ISD that would keep our division from attaining our objectives. We always have a loophole in place to make sure that we get what we want."

Bridger shook his head. The truth was that he'd suspected there was a trick to Lowry's capitulation, but once McGath had agreed to the deal, there had been nothing further he could do about it.

"That isn't how things should be, Commander," he told her, and she shrugged.

"It might surprise you to hear it, sir, but I agree with you. Unfortunately, it is what it is. At least this particular set of prisoners will make it out of this with the same number of fingers and toes as they went in with."

"Okay," Lucas interrupted, nudging Ford's ankle with the toe of his boot. "I think it's time for us to let Commander Sutton get some sleep, before Dr. Smith comes in here and kicks us all out."

"Lucas is right," Ford agreed, not needing any further prompting. It was time to break up this little chat while Bridger and Sophie were still on speaking terms. They typically got along pretty well, but it didn't take a parapsychologist to see that this conversation wasn't going to end in a group hug. "Get some rest, Sophie. Feel better soon."

Ford and Bridger left, probably headed back to the bridge to check on the myriad of repairs still being done all over the boat to fix the damage the intruders had caused. Lucas paused in the doorway, catching Sophie's eye.

"I'm going to check in with Wallace and Jovasti. Do you need anything?"

"Actually, would you find Martinez and Graham and send them in here? I need to have a talk with them."

He gave her an inquisitive look, but she didn't offer any further explanation.

"I can't wait to find out what that's about."

"It's nothing too terrible," she assured him. "They just need to take a little correction on something."

"Got it. I'll send them in for their scolding."

* * *

Martinez and Graham looked like they were facing a firing squad. Sophie was having trouble keeping herself from laughing at the pair of them, which would have ruined the moment.

"Ma'am, I'm - I'm so sorry about what I said. We both are. We never should have -"

Sophie held up a hand to silence her, and she and Graham both flinched.

"You should be sorry. Years of training as covert operatives, and you were careless enough to gossip about your CO in front of her?" Sophie shook her head. "It doesn't matter that you thought I was asleep. It wouldn't matter if you thought I was _dead. _If you want to have a private conversation, have it in private. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused immediately.

"Good. You're dismissed."

Martinez and Graham hesitated, glancing at each other, and Sophie raised an eyebrow at them.

"Was I unclear?"

"No, ma'am," Martinez said slowly. "We just, uh…"

"Was there anything you wanted to say about the content of that conversation?" Graham interrupted, sounding defeated.

Sophie gave the pair of them a speaking look, and then shrugged.

"There's not much to say, except to congratulate you on your perspicacity." She paused, taking in their identical stunned expressions, and a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "Everything you said was true, and I'd be an idiot to deny it. I'll admit that, at the time, I didn't realize the danger I was in. Looking back, though, I don't think any of you realized how close I really came to turning into someone else, or how much you would've disliked the new me. So do something nice for Wolenczak the next time you get the chance, all right?"

Their relief was nearly palpable. "Yes, ma'am," they chorused. As they left the room, Sophie's smile widened and she sank back against her pillow, thoroughly amused. It was clear that they'd expected her to crucify them. There had been a time when she would have done exactly that, she admitted to herself, and her smile faded. If Lucas hadn't come along and made her realize what she was doing to herself, how long would it have been before she completely alienated her own team? How much longer after that before she would have ended up just like Colvard, living only for her work and nothing else? She'd been so close…

Martinez and Graham had only been gone for a few moments when there was a knock at the door, and her smile resurfaced when her partner stuck his head around the corner.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

He shut the door behind himself, coming over to take the chair next to her bed.

"What did you say to Graham and Martinez?" he asked, giving her an interested look.

"Why?"

"Martinez hugged me."

Sophie choked on a laugh, as much because of his bemused tone of voice as because of the mental image that evoked.

"She and Graham came out of here looking like they'd both been hit with a board," he continued in that same tone. "When I walked past them to come in, Graham stopped me and thanked me - for what, I have no idea - and then Martinez ambushed me. She just grabbed me out of nowhere. By the time I realized she was hugging me and not trying to strangle me, she'd already let go of me and taken off. Stop laughing, Sophie; I'm being serious."

She was practically in tears at this point, laughing so hard that she had trouble catching her breath. Lucas waited patiently for Sophie to regain some semblance of control over herself. The bizarre interlude with Martinez had happened exactly the way he'd told her, and she'd enjoyed the story as much as he'd thought she would. He wished she'd been there to see it, and he really wanted to know what she'd said to provoke that kind of behavior from Martinez, who was usually pretty reserved around him.

Sophie finally managed to stop laughing, and when he caught her gaze, she gave him one of those tender smiles that made his heart skip a beat.

"Will you do me a favor, Lucas?"

"Of course. Anything."

"Hold me."

His eyes widened in surprise as he got automatically to his feet. Sophie didn't typically make requests like that. She was clearly expecting him to join her on the bed, and she let out a squeak of surprise as he slid his arms under her and picked her up instead. He sat back down in the chair and settled her in his lap, blankets and all.

"Better?" he murmured, and she beamed up at him.

"Better," she agreed, resting her head against his chest. They sat in silence for a few moments, simply enjoying being together, before she spoke again. "All of this must have been hard for you. Juliana showed up here, working for the other side, and then Tomlinson killed her right in front of you."

"And then after she was dead, Shaw yanked out one of her teeth." Lucas couldn't quite repress a shudder, and Sophie's embrace tightened in response. "I know it's weird, but I think that bothers me even more than seeing Tomlinson shoot her. The thought of it just makes me sick."

"I'm sorry," Sophie whispered. She wished there was something she could say that would make him feel better about the whole situation, but she knew from experience that some hurts couldn't be soothed with words.

"At least she didn't blame me for it," he sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And the intel she gave us - Jesus, Sophie, if we manage to use that to get our hands on Bourne and Stassi and end the war -"

"It would be an impressive legacy for her," she agreed, and then jumped a little when Lucas poked her arm. "What was that for?"

"I'm still waiting for you to tell me what exactly you said to Martinez to inspire that hug attack."

"Mmm." She snuggled a little closer to him, and his hand moved up to caress her shoulder. "You saved my life, Lucas."

He frowned, trying to figure out what she was talking about. "I think the point goes to you this time, actually," he disputed, and she smiled against his chest.

"Martinez and Graham were in here earlier, talking about me while they thought I was asleep."

Lucas snorted. "Of course, you weren't asleep."

"You'd think they'd never met me," she agreed, rolling her eyes. "That's why I wanted to talk to them, to point out what a poor choice that was."

"What were they saying about you?" he asked, curious.

"That if you hadn't come along, I would've turned out just like Colvard. Don't argue," she added as he opened his mouth to protest. "They were right. You saved me, Lucas, and not just from frag grenades and crazy guys with knives. You saved me from myself."

"I love you, Sophie," he told her, quiet dedication in his voice. "I love you, and I will save you from every frag grenade and knife-wielding crazy guy who comes near you, and I will save you from yourself as many times as you need me to." He paused, smiling a little. "And you can save me from everything else."

"Deal," she agreed with a contented sigh. "I love you, Lucas."

"Love you," he repeated, kissing the crown of her head again. "You should go back to bed."

"I'm happier here."

"Yeah," he agreed softly. "Me too."


End file.
